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SHAKESPEAKE 



AS A 



PHYSICIAN. 



COMPRISING EVERY WORD WHICH IN ANT WAY RELATES TO MEDICINE. 

SURGERY OR OBSTETRICS, FOUND IN THE COMPLETE WORKS OF 

THAT WRITER, WITH CRITICISMS AND COMPARISON 

OF THE SAME WITH THE MEDICAL 

THOUGHTS OF TO-DAY. 



J. PORTMAN OHESNEY, M.D., 

Ex-Secretary Medical Society of the State of Missouri; Corresponding Member of the 

Gynaecological Society of Boston; Prof, of Gynaecology in the Northwestern 

Medical College, St. Joseph, Mo., etc., etc. 

.^ 



"Sir: — I hear you are a schoUar — I will be brief with you — and you 
have been a man long known to me, though I had never so good means, as I 
desire, to make myself acquainted with you. I shall discover a thing to 
you wherein I must very much lay open mine own imperfection ; but, good 
sir, as you have an eye upon my follies, as you hear them unfolded, turn 
another into the register of your own, that I may pass with a reproof the 
easier, sith yourself know, how easy it is to be such an offep^eCTTi^C u 




J. H. CHAMBERS & CO., Put)lisliera7' 

CHICAGO, ILL., ST. LOUIS, MO., ATLANTA, GA. 

1884. 






Entered According to Act of Congress, in the year 1883, by 

JAMES H. CHAMBERS & CO., 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, D. C. 



/ 



Ipb 



TO 

WILLIAM F. SCOTT, M. D., 

* AND 

FRANCIS M. JASPER, M. D., 

OF KENTUCKY, 

WHO, IN THE LONG AGO, 

BY THEIR KINDLY WORDS AND HELPING HAND, 

CHEERED MY YOUTHFUL PROFESSIONAL ASPIRATIONS, 

THIS VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED, 

BY 

THEIR FRIEND, 

THE AUTHOR. 



COE^TENTS 



CHAPTER I. 

Obstetrics, - - - - - 17 

Blue-eyed hag — Go to "Texas" — The "fly young man" — Di*. Rosenweig 
and Madam McCarthy — Poor Alice Bowlsby and Miss Jennie Cramer — The 
horsewhip and "navy" — The poor duke's constable — Longing for stew'd 
prunes — Shakespeare's sagacity — The "craving" appetite in females — The 
blood is the life — Anorexia and delirium — "Good cheer" for pregnant 
women — Pompey Bum and the "social evil" — "Quick" at the second 
month — Puck and his girdle — Exploring the moon — Normal ovariotomy — 
The nubile age — Mental emotions and abortion — Three classes of causa- 
tion — The fruit withers — Neoplasms — Endometritis — Syphilis and the no- 
bility — Juliet and lady Capulet — Lord Campbell — Forensic medicine— Child- 
bed privilege — The "medicine man" and his fee — Twenty money-bags — 
King John and his erroneous decision — Premature deliveries and the law — 
Two cases from Taylor — Groaned for him — The heyday of existence and 
the evening of age — "Hal" and Herbert Spencer — Alcohol and venery — 
Fish diet and sex — Abortion ; never in the prostitute — The doctor's coat — 
Maid of Orleans — Commission on pregnancy — Difliculties in diagnosing 
pregnancy — Jorisenne's method — Apprehensions in the pregnant state — 
The "play" as a means of education — Richard the Third at his birth — 
Shakespeare's intuition — Teeth generated in error — Teretology; its va- 
rieties — Hunchbacks and their wit— Richard's villainy — The "grunting" 
— The accouchement of Anne Boleyn — Graphic description — Tamora, queen 
of the Goths — " He is your brother by the surer side " — Early marriages 
and premature decay — Excuses in America — Weaning of Juliet — Stand on 
the floor and suck — Inanition and little gilded tombs — "Twin sisters" — 
Chlorosis — Scoundrels made from the mothers' milk — The mother who 
nurses her own offspring — Caesarian section should not be "untimely" — 
How fresh she looks. 

9 



10 



SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 



CHAPTER II. 

Psychology, .... 70 

Definition — Shakespeare's profound knowledge of the subject — Buckniirs 
eulogium — "It is all the best'' — Shakespeare's special study of insanity an 
absurdity — His intuition — Scene before an Abbey — Jealousy versus sanitj- — A 
foul conspiracy — A psychological charlatan— Sleeplessness but a symptom — 
Shakespeare draws on his own domestic experience— iVbic not a joke, but a 
dark reality — Thrown into a "dankish" vault— The cell of Foscari— Public 
institutions need surveillance — Preliminary abuses — Probate courts and 
examinations in lunacy — Monkey and medical expert — A ten-dollar fee — 
Charles Reade — "Why hast thou put him in such a dream?" — No darkness 
but ignorance — Make the trial of it in any constant question— Erroneous 
assumption — Bucknill on memory — What at any time have you heard her 
say? — "Out damned spot"— Here's the smell of blood still — Will she go now 
to bed? — Cure her of that — "Make thick my blood stop up the access and 
passage to remorse" — Cases fromDeBoismont — "He had a large knife in his 
hand and went straight to my bed" — He returned as he came — * 'I had so strange 
a dream" — His services were thereafter dispensed with — Somnambulism and' 
insanity — The pulse as indicative of insanity — Did you nothing hear? — Hallu- 
cinations — The ghost — The spectre cat — The doctor's fright — Look! Amaze- 
ment on thy mother sits — Lesions of structure necessary to lesions of func- 
tion — I'm a'gwine to die!— One finale awaits the man and all his attributes — 
Love and sleeplessness — Age — "No man bears sorrow better" — The final 
cataclysm — King Lear not insane — A dog's obeyed in office — The "Bed- 
lam beggar" — "How does the king?" — "You are a spirit, I know" — Lord 
Shaftesbury's opinion — The Emotions — Their close relationship to actual 
mental diseases — Jealousy — With "pin and web" — Othello, the Moor — "O! 
now farewell the tranqujl mind" — Alas the day ! I never gave him cause — The 
ills we do their ill instruct as to — Ninety children the utmost limit — The rela- 
tive procreative capacity of the sexes — Monogamistic relations — Abortion 
and polygamy — Love — All lovers swear more performance than they are able — 
Love-marks— "Did you ever cure any so?" — The pale complexion of true love 
— "He took me by the wrist and held me hard" — Mine eyes were not at fault, 
for she was beautiful — Lust — Not from Shakespeare — One man in every five — 
Love powders— My daughter! O my daughter! — Lucretius, the poet — A veri- 
table letter — Venereal excitement not love — Let not the creaking of shoes — 
The will and conception — "Could I find out the woman's part in me" — Pain- 
ful copulation (Dyspareunia)— Anger — Envy. 

CHAPTER III. 

Neurology, - - - - -121 

Epilepsy — Falling Sickness — "Rub him about the temples" — Playing 
"wolf" — The prototype of Othello—" What, did Csesar swoon?" — The epi- 
leptic zone — The trade-mark and "plug" hat — Mistaken diagnosis — This 



CONTENTS. 11 

apoplexy will certain be his end — Gad's Hill and Sir John — I talk not of 
his majesty — It is a kind of deafness — Croups — Drowning as a consequence 
of popular delusion — The mad-stone and its votaries — Not known by medi- 
cal men — The treatment as good as any — "John Jones, of Albany "— Odon- 
tology — Set up the bloody flag against all patience — The nurse's head-ache — 
" Let me but bind it hard " — Varieties of the malady — Sciatica— Syphilis as 
a complication — Gout — Plays the rogue with my great toe — Anorexia — Pa- 
ralysis — " My Arm nerves shall never tremble." 

CHAPTER IV. 

Pharmacologia, - - - - 132 

Sleepy Drinks — Foster nurse of Nature — A liberal offer — A doctor's knowl- 
edge appreciated — What? — The perfumed dandy — Unbearable nonsense — 
What's in't? — Mandragora — Drowsy syrups — Superstition — Toxicology — The 
trusty pistol — Fashions of suicide — Difficulty of purchase — Poisoned by a 
monk — This tyrant fever — Swinstead abbey — Strange fantasies — North winds 
— A compound — Monks as physicians — Cardinal Beaufort — Liebreich an- 
ticipated — Republished — Was it chloral? — Comparison of conditions — Care, 
fully noted — Meagre were his looks — What, ho! — Famine is in thy cheek — 
Death's pale flag — Thus with a kiss — A nest of Death — A slight discrepancy — 
Oxalic acid — Discovery repeats itself — The insane root — Drugging the pos- 
set-—" Hashish " — The unction of a mountebank — Rabies canina — Curara — 
From what derived?— A failure apprehended — Trap with double triggers — 
Fencing match — An unlooked for termination — A jealous sister — Kills and 
pains not — Immortal longings — Easy ways to die — Zest to* a tragedy — A spe- 
cific — Alconcito — A royal student — Soliloquy— Most likelj^ I did — Moreton 
preceded. 

CHAPTER V. 

Etiology, ----- 156 

Prefatory — Wine for an ague — Objects of commiseration — A promise re- 
deemed — Icy burning — A marshy residence — Magna charta — Allegorical — 
An idea of antiquity— "Would to bed " — " Falstaff, he is dead" — Congestive 
chill — Gad's-hill — Prince Henry and his "pals"— This man has become a 
god — Is Brutus sick? — Acerbity — The Appian Way — Foes to life — Malaria 
as a demoralizing agent — Cross gartering — The tourniquet as a remedy — 
Same as a cause of disease — Farewell to neuralgia — Brunonianism. 

. ' CHAPTER VI. 

Dermatology, . - - _ 164 

The beginning — Serpigo — A voluminous curse — Was it small-pox? — The 
cursed hebenon — Acarus scabiei — The disease in Paris— Falstaff as a 
" wen" — Kibes — Probably vaccinated — A string of rhymes — Good fruit only 



12 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHTSICIAN'. 

from a good tree — Transmissibility of defects— Gynaecological pheuomeua— 
The " convulsive zone" — Spreading it on "thick" — Rouge and pearl pow- 
ders — 'Tis beauty truly blent — Commendable caution — Danger in the dark — 
A fastidious scoundrel — Supposition strengthened — We catch of you, Doll — 
Baths in syphilis — Ricord and Bumstead — A beautiful picture — Durability of 
a tanner— A curious but not creditable truth — A needed reform — Venesection 
in the right iliac fossa. 

CHAPTER VII. 

Organology, - - - - - 174 

The stomach — Power of mind over function — Voluntary inanition — Its 
Pathology — What a physiologist! — Dietetic ideas of a hostess — An apt com- 
parison — The irritability of hunger — A plain road — An error explained — The 
woodman and his belt— Seat of the affections — Gin-drinker's liver — Cause 
for effect — Smiling at grief — Lewdness and poverty — Illustrated— Sentiment 
reversed — The badge of cowardice— The truth in popular ideas — Then live, 
Macduff — Sleep in spite of thunder— Pulmonary gangi-ene- Benedick, the 
married man — Thaw'd out — A pertinent conclusion — A blind philosopher — 
How are you 'fraid! — Latent senses — The green flap — Some new infection — 
An enquiry — An amusing incident—" Hal's " vocabulary — Renal functions- 
Sympathetic fibrillse— Carry his water to the wise woman — What says the 
doctor to my water? — A sensible doctor, for a wonder — Changes in the kid- 
ney—Nose painting — A sure sign — Taste not — A cheap article — " When I was 
about thy years, Hal" — The lean and hungry Cassius — He smiles in such a 
sort— Drawing the fire out — A parody— An exploded barbarity — Mr. Strib- 
ling, the druggist — The blood is the life — Blasting a good resolve — Man im- 
proves with his condition — A plea for the lancet- Palpitation— Good air as 
an agent— Much effuse of blood, etc. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Chirurgert, - - - - - 192 

Grows stronger for the breaking — Mistaken principle— Patching the over- 
coat — Bad practice — Syncope— Mistakes in prognosis— Spare the blood — 
Shakespeare a poor sm-geon — A scar covered veteran — The money changer — 
The surgeon's fee — Professional failing — Doctors and the clergy — A man 
with a soul — The surgeon's tools— Surgeon's fort— Honors to whom honor, 
etc. — Trichina spiralis — Who is responsible?— Doctors and their doings — 
Little change — Cowardly knave- Jester for an hospital — The least merit — 
A precedent for doctor " she "—" Malignant fistulse "—Potent remedy- 
Popular ignorance — The reformed hod-carrier— Professional honor — Another 
comparison — A lame impostor and his lame detection — Doctor's untimely 
end — The English Nero— Dr. Butts, the scoundrel — A want of faith — Woful 
mistake — Danger of expectancy— In Macbeth— An absurd credulity— God 
Almighty as a visiting physician— How does your patient, doctor?— Needs a 
divine — No mean psychologist — Indiscreet — A self- constituted doctor. 



CONTENTS. 13 

CHAPTER IX. 

Miscellaneous, - - - - 212 

A vile caricature — The Hunchback — Now is the winter of my discontent — 
Listening to the whispers of Vanity — I'll be at charge for a looking-glass — 
Troublous dreams — Sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve — Our life is two- 
fold — Sleep hath its own world — From Byron — Neuralgia — No guaranty of 
truth — Riot — Position in sea-sickness — Old quarantine regulations — The 
plague — From the cradle to the grave — Characteristics of senility — Take a 
man of honor, Kate — He brings his physic after his patient's death — An awk- 
ward predicament— Tests for death— Life a failure — Ay! but to die? Grira 
Death ! 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



PAGE. 

King Henry VIII. and the Midwife, - - - 49 

The Midwife to Anne Bullen, on receiving her fee, - - 50 

Aaron, the Moor, and the Illegitimate Child, - - 52 

An Illustration of the Benefits of Protracted Lactation, - 59 

Enquiry in Lunacy — (Medical Experts to the right), - 76 

Lady Macbeth murders the sleeping Duncan, - - 82 

The Doctor looks for the skeleton behind him, - - 90 

The Effects of gathering the May-apple root, - - 136 

Romeo and the Apothecary of Mantua, - . . 143 

Romeo and Juliet in the " tomb of the Capulets," - - 144 

Prince "Hal" manifests his friendship for Sir John Falstaff, 176 

The Woodman, and his arrangement for "cheap boarding," 179 

The Clown enlivening the inmates of an Hospital, - - 198 

A Female Practitioner presents herself before the King, - 200 
The famous "Dr. Sunrise " condescends to visit the good people 

of St. Joseph, . - . . . 203 

A Gentleman who practices under the protection of a License 
issued by the highest authority, - - - . 211 



14 



PEE FACE. 



The thoughts of Shakespeare enter more or less into the pro- 
ductions of almost every one who writes in the English language. 
His works abound in such a profuse diversity of thought and expres- 
sion, that they are laid under contribution to supply the gems which 
sparkle among the lowering effusions of the lawyer, the doctor, and 
the divine ; they contribute the ornamentation for the title-pages of 
the wit, the poet and the fictionist, — whilst in miscellaneous writings 
of every conceivable kind and sentiment their wisdom is pruned or 
distorted to suit the ' ' mellowing of occasion. ' ' 

The idea even of making an entire volume based upon some single 
line of thought found in Shakespeare's writings is not new, — as a 
work embracing "Shakespeare's Legal knowledge" was written by 
Lord Campbell, and published in England some years ago ; and it is 
said, that even now, there are as many as twenty books in some way 
connected with the great dramatist, issued yearly from the British 
press. If in the vastness of this literature there has not at some 
time in the past appeared a work embodying "Shakespeare's 
Medical knowledge," it is a little strange, — though of the existence 
of such a work the present writer has no knowledge. 

The conception of presenting Shakespeare's medical knowledge in 
a complete and connected form is, therefore, probably original as 
connected with the present work. We are not unmindful, however, 
that his thoughts on medicine have from time to time appeared in a 
fragmentary form, — the latest of which is a paper a few years ago 
published in this country, embracing the immortal poet's ideas of 
Insanity ; of the scope and merit of the paper we can, however, say 
nothing, as it has never fallen into our hands. 

16 



16 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

In presenting, as we have endeavored to do, truly and faithfully, 
every line and precept in Shakespeare's complete works which in 
the remotest sense bears upon the science and practice of medicine, 
we may say that easj^ as the task may seem to one who has not 
essayed it, — yet the satisfactory accomplishment of the work has 
been attended with no small amount of difficulty and labor ; and in 
extenuation of any faults which may be found in its pages, we will 
say to the ' ' critics ' ' that if in them the ' ' antique and well-noted face 
of plain old form is much disfigured — and, like a shifting wind into 
a sail, it makes the course of thought to fetch about, — startles con- 
sideration, — makes sound opinion sick, and truth suspected, for put- 
ting on so new a fashioned garb," — why, then, we shall hail with 
delight a better work upon the same subject from any one of them. 

THE AUTHOR. 

St. Joseph, Mo., 

March 1st, 1884. 

Note. — Since placing the present work in the hands of the publishers, I 
have been favored by Dr. George C. Catlett, Superintendent of the Mis- 
souri State Lunatic Asylum, with'a copy of an English work, entitled " The 
Mad Folk of Shakespeare," by Dr. Jno. Charles Bucknill, and from its pages 
I have liberally drawn in amending ray chapter on Insanity.— J. P. C. 



CHAPTER I, 



OBSTETRICS. 



Blue-eyed hag — Go to "Texas" — The "fly young man" — Dr. Rosenweig 
and Madam McCarthy — Poor Alice Bowlsby and Miss Jennie Cramer — The 
horsewhip and "navy" — The poor duke's constable — Longing for stew'd 
prunes — Shakespeare's sagacity — The "craving" appetite in females — The 
blood is the life — Anorexia and delirium — "Good cheer" for pregnant 
women — Pompey Bum and the "social evil" — "Quick" at the second 
month — Puck and his girdle — Exploring the moon — Normal ovariotomy — 
The nubile age — Mental emotions and abortion — Three chisses of causa, 
tion — The fruit withers — Neoplasms — Endometritis — S.vphilis and the no 
bility — Juliet and lady Capulet — Lord Campbell — Forensic medicine— Child- 
bed privilege — The "medicine man" and his fee — Twenty money-bags — 
King John and his eiToneous decision — Premature deliveries and the law — 
Two cases from Taylor — Groaned for him — The heyday of existence and 
the evening of age — "Hal" and Herbert Spencer — Alcohol and venery — 
Eish diet and sex — Abortion ; never in the prostitute — The doctor's coat — 
Maid of Orleans — Commission on pregnancy — Difficulties in diagnosing 
pregnancy — Jorisenne's method — Apprehensions,, in the pregnant state — 
The "play" as a means of education — Richard the Third at his birth — 
Shakespeare's intuition — Teeth generated in error— Teretology; its va- 
rieties — Hunchbacks and their wit — Richard's villainy r— The "grunting" 
— The accouchement of Anne Boleyn — Graphic description — Tamora, queen 
of the Goths — " He is your brother by the surer side " — Early marriages 
and premature decay — Excuses in America — Weaning of Juliet — Stand on 
the floor and suck — Inanition and little gilded tombs — "Twin sisters" — 
Chlorosis — Scoundrels made from the mothers' milk — The mother who 
nurses her own offspring — Caesarian section should not be "untimely" — 
How fresh she looks. 

Under this caption will be considered every thing connected with 
parturition and the science of gynaecology. The material, though 
sufficiently voluminous to constitute a chapter of value, is yet so 
difficult of arrangement into readable order, that the task I take 
upon myself in essaying its accomplishment is of some solicitude. 

"The Tempest," A. i., S. ii., furnishes us with the first idea in 
this direction. 



18 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

" This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child," has reference 
to the former mistress of Caliban, but is not of sufficient moment 
for comment. 

" 'Tis my familiar sin with maids to seem the lapwing, and to 
jest, tongue far from heart, play with all virgins so ; your brother 
and his lover have embrac'd : as those that feed grow full ; as blos- 
soming time, that from the seeding the bare fallow brings to teeming 
foison, even so her plenteous womb expresseth his full tilth and 
husbandry. 

Isabella. Some one with child by him? — My cousin Juliet? 

Lucio. Is she your cousin ? 

Isabella. Adoptedly ; as schoolmaids change their names by vain 
though apt affection, 

Lucio. She it is. 

Isabella. O, let him marry her." 

The above conversation might have been overheard between a 
young lady and young gentleman, parties to the interesting play 
of "Measure for Measure," A. i., S. v., had the ear been applied to 
the key-hole ; and though somewhat pointed to be had between a 
young couple — or at least would be now so considered — it was no 
doubt admissible at the date in which it purports to have been used. 

Isabella but echoes the sentiment of a woman's heart. She would 
have her brother marry the girl he had .wronged, and thus save her 
from the odium incide^ to the results of their improper intimacy. 
Not so the sentiment w masculine humanity. Think of it as he 
may, the man's acts are commonly to get away from the scenes of his 
villainies. Goto "Texas," get aivay, go any ivhere, but leave the 
place of perfidy, leave his victim to the burden of both her own 
sorrows and his crimes is the usual mode. Some there are however 
essay another means of egress from the net closing around them — 
a means apparently less hazardous to them, but doubly so to the 
victim. Instead of either "marrying her" or escaping to Aus- 
tralia, the "fly young man" consults Dr. Rosenweig or Madam 
McCarthy, with one or the other of whom he perfects arrangements 
for boarding his "cousin" for a week or two. "My cousin, you 
know, has 'taken cold,' you know, and has drops3^" The result 
of this stay of a few days with the eminent doctor, coupled with 
the "treatments" he gives her to "bring her round again," is 
but too forcibly pictured in the fate of poor Alice Bowlsby, whose 



OBSTETRICS. 19 

body, packed in a trunk, and shipped about the country for several 
days, so horrified New England a few years ago. Or then the 
victim's fate is sealed, and she hides her deep despair in the murky 
waters of a neighboring pond, the swift current of the river, the 
quiet depths of a lake — or, like the more recent case of Jennie 
Cramer, expiates, voluntarily, the unendurable bitterness of her 
folly by hiding her body and shame together in the dark waters 
of the sea. Those antiquated notions of "let him marry her " 
may find an occasional response in the bosom of some of our 
country swains, actuated to the performance of the noble and self- 
sacrificing duty by the horsewhip of an indignant father, or the 
point of a " navy " in the hands of a big brother ; but in the city, 
among the refined and intelligent, where Madam M. and Dr. R. 
may be found almost in every block — never. 

In continuation of this same case, wherein the party accused of 
fornication was by the edict of the ruler of the country to suffer 
death, we have these further details : 

Escalus. "Well, heaven forgive us all ! 

Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall. 

Elhoio. Come, bring them away. If these be good people in a 
common-weal, that do nothing but use their abuses in common 
houses, I know the law ; bring them away. 

Angela. \_The duke's deputy , ivlio is executing the laio tvith the 
utmost rigor on others, although violating it himself tvith the most 
flagrant hand.^ How now, sir? what's your name? and what's the 
matter ? 

Elboiv. If it please your honor, I am the poor duke's constable, 
and my name is Elbow: I do not lean upon Justice, sir; and do 
bring in here before your good honor two notorious benefactors. 

Angelo. Benefactors! Well, what benefactors are they! are they 
not malefactors? 

Elboio. If it please 3'^our honor, I know not well what they are ; 
but precious villains they are, that I am sure of, and void of all 
profanation in the world that good Christians ought to have. 

Escalus. This comes off well; here's a wise officer. 

Angelo. Go to : what quality are they of? Elbow is your name : 
why dost thou not speak, Elbow? 

Clown. He cannot, sir ; he's out at elbows. 

Angelo. What are you, sir? 

Elbow. He, sir? a tapster, sir; a parcel-bawd; one that serves 



20 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

a bad woman, whose house, sir, was, as they saj'', hot-house, which 
I think, is a very ill house too. 

Escalus. How know you that? 

Elbow. My wife, sir, whom I detest, before heaven and j^our 
honor. 

Escalus. How ! thy wife ? 

Elbow. Ay, sir ; who, I thank heaven, is an honest woman. 

Escalus. Dost thou detest her therefor? 

Elbow. I say, sir, I will detest myself also, as well as she, that 
this house, if it be not a bawd's house, it is pity of her life, for it 
is a naughtj^ house. 

Escalus. How dost thou know that, constable? 

Elbow. Marry, sir, by mj'^ wife ; who, if she had been a woman 
cardinally inclined, might have been accused in fornication, adul- 
tery, and all uncleanliness there. 

Escalus. By the woman's means? 

Elboio. Ay, sir, by Mrs. Overdone's means; but as she spit in 
his face, so she defied him. 

Clown. Sir, if it please your honor, this is not so. 

Elboio. Prove it before these varlets here, thou honorable man ; 
prove it. 

Escalus. \_To Angela. '\ Do you hear how he misplaces? 

Clown. Sir, she came in great with child, and longing (saving 
your honor's reverence) for stew'd prunes: sir, we had but two in 
the house, which at that distant time stood, as it were, in a fruit 
dish, a dish of some three pence : your honor have seen such 
dishes : they are not china dishes, but very good dishes. 

Escalus. Go to, go to ; no matter for the dish, sir. 

Cloion. No, indeed, sir ; not of a pin ; you are therefore in the 
right ; but to the point. As I say, this Mistress Elbow, being, as I 
said, with child, and being great belly'd, and, longing as I said, for 
prunes, and having but two in the dish, as 1 said, Master Froth 
here, this very man, having eaten the rest, as I said, and, as I say, 
paying for them very honestly ; — for, as you know. Master Froth, I 
could not give you three pence again. 
Froth. No, indeed. 

Clown. Very well ; you being then, if you be remember'd, 
cracking the stones of the foresaid prunes. 
Froth. And so I did indeed. 
Cloivn. Why, very well ; I telling you then, if you be remem- 



OBSTETRICS. 21 

ber'd, that such a one, and such a one, were past cure of the thing 
you wot of, unless they kept very good diet, as I told you." 

The court scene above represented is a prettj^ fair representation 
of what may be heard most any day in our inferior tribunals, — the 
medical matter being better however in the above instance than the 
legal. The idea conveyed in the last paragraph, as to the necessity 
of good diet in the treatment of the "diseases you wot of," was 
ignored by the medical world until a period so recent as to come 
within the memory of our junior practitioners ; and that its pro- 
priety, nay, necessity^ should have forced its self upon the notice of 
a non-medical man three centuries and a half ago, when no medical 
mind had grasped the idea, is only one among the thousands of evi- 
dences we have of Shakespeare's unequaled sagacity. The craving 
appetite of pregnant women is in my mind a real demand made by 
nature for material with which to repair some specific waste incident 
to conception ; and the guardians of a female in that condition, 
who pass lightly b}^ the demands of their charge, are certainly dere- 
lict in the discharge of a sacred duty. The whole period of gesta- 
tion is one of severe strain upon the tissues of the mother ; every 
change in her structures during the nine months of the foetal 
existence is to her a perfod of retrograde metamorphosis, and this is 
shown by nothing better than the qualities of her blood — the changes 
in the composition of which, so characteristic of the pregnant state — 
being recognized as an indubitable evidence in this direction. 
"The blood is the life," and when this fails to perform its wonted 
functions, the whole economy follows its lead. The demands upon 
the system of the mother are of course to supply the materials of a 
new being ; and though we have no data at hand upon which to 
predicate an assertion that the strange and unusual articles of diet 
sometimes so longingly sought by the mother do contain ingredients 
essential to the elaboration of some of its tissues — yet it may be so. 
For some women to become pregnant is to become a new being — 
her whole aspect is changed. This metamorphosis is no where in 
her economy more apparent than in the digestive apparatus — the 
stomach more pai'ticularly participating in these perturbations in a 
degree often sufficient to endanger the life of the woman. Then 
the mental change, so noticeable a feature in some pregnant females, 
is doubtless due partially, if not essentially, to the disturbance of 
the nutritive balance in the system, whereby the brain and nervous 
system are deprived of some ingredient which is essential to their 



22 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

healthy functional activity. At a later period doubtless may be 
added, as a factor in these manifestations, the septic influences 
engendered by a retention of a materies morhi in the system of the 
mother — the products of the waste of the growing ovum, as also 
of her own tissues, retained in her blood. 

We notice analogous symptoms connected with many wasting 
diseases, as, for example, in typhoid fever, where the anorexia and 
the delirium are only the language of the conditions before suggested. 
Supply, then, the woman with the " stew'd prunes," or any thing 
she requests — her system demands it. The champagne found to be 
of so much service to pregnant females by Meigs was but an ex- 
ample of how much " good cheer " may do for them. 

The appetite should not be called "morbid," and passed over 
carelessly; but our "great belly 'd " patients should be well fed, 
the fear of "plethora" to the contrary notwithstanding. Plethora, 
ursemic disorders, etc., are the evidences of improper elimination 
and impoverished organic tissues, rather than of over feeding and 
undue assimilation. 

This same Clown, Pompey Bum, entertained an idea that may 
yet command the notice of the physicians, clergy and law-makers 
of this country — namely, that to prevent 'some from living by the 
trade of bawds, it will be necessary to geld and spaj^ all the youths 
of the country ; and thus would the social evil and its physical 
counterpart, venereal maladies, vanish together. 

In " Love's Labor Lost," A. v., S. ii., we find: 

Costard. " The party is gone : fellow Hector, she is gone ; she is 
two months on her way. 

Armado. What meanest thou? 

Costard. Faith, unless thou play the honest Trojan, the poor 
wench is cast away ; she is quick ; the child brags in her belly 
already." 

The idea of a woman being quick at the end of the second 
month is not borne out by the facts ; yet it is probably not due to 
a lack of definite knowledge on that point by Shakespeare, but is 
made so to place it in keeping with the general spirit of exaggera- 
tion which pervades the whole plot of the comedy. 

In " A Midsummer Night's Dream" we find reference to par- 
turient fatality in these words: " But she being mortal, of that boy 
did die;" which applied to the labor of Titian's companion, but 
there is nothing further of interest can be deduced from it. 



OBSTETRICS. 23 

In the same play, and though somewhat irrelevant to our subject, 
I may mention the now somewhat notorious boast of "Puck" in 
regard to " putting a girdle round about the earth in forty minutes." 
Little did Shakespeare dream that this very thing, to him no doubt 
only a thought placed there to illustrate the extremist impossibility, 
should be an accomplished fact while yet his own great name is 
fresh in the minds and hearts of a majority of the civilized people 
of the earth. Less did he imagine that " forty minutes " should 
in so short a time be considered an absolute waste of the precious 
moments, and that the necessities of the age made it imperative that 
it be only forty seconds ! 

The speculations of the maniac who should now declare that the 
time will be when we shall be able to reach and explore the hidden 
mysteries of the moon, would seem to us as plausible as the pre- 
diction of "Puck;" now, we mortals behold his seemingly idle 
vagaries an accomplished fact. We know not what a day may bring 
forth. Shakespeare, with all his insight into the possibilities which 
reside in the human composition, did not reach, even in his wildest 
dreams, the ideas of the telephone, phonograph, etc., both of which 
have been perfected — nay, conceived, since the above paragraph 
was written. Wonderful as they are, are they much more so than 
the ability and utility found in connection with what may be accom- 
plished with the pen.'' The pen and printing press are grayidest 
after all. But to return to our theme: In "The Merchant of 
Venice" we find a coarse conversation between Lorenzo and 
Lancelot in regard to the pregnancy of a certain Moor, which, 
however, has little point, and need not be mentioned. 

" All's well that ends well, " act last, scene last, contains the fol- 
lowing: " But for this lord, who hath abus'd me, as he knows him- 
self, though yet he never harm'd me, here I quit him. 

He knows himself my bed he hath defil'd. 
And at that time he got his wife with child : 
Dead though she be, she feels her young one kick ; 
So there's my riddle, one that's dead is ' quick.' " 

The lady in this case was Doctor Helena, who worked wonders in 
the cure of the king's " fistula," to be spoken of in a subsequent 
chapter of this volume. 

" The AVinter's Tale " supplies us with this : " The queen, your 
mother, rounds apace: she is spread of late into a goodlj' bulk " 



24 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

This was the queen's ladies' -in- waiting in converse with a small boy, 
the " prince." Leontes, the boy's father, being wofully jealous of 
his wife, thought to annoy her by depriving her of the society of the 
child, and gave orders to his servants — "away with him; and let 
her sport herself with that she's big with, for 'tis Polixenes has 
made her swell thus." 

One of the king's officers, who knew that the queen was innocent 
of the charges that were laid at her door, avowed that if she was 
jDroven guilty that he would geld his three daughters- — fourteen they 
should not see, to bring false generations. The more euphoneous 
and polite term normal ovariotomy (instead of geld) was not found 
in the medical vocabulary of the age in which Shakespeare lived. 

This idea that the age of fourteen is the beginning of the nubile 
age in females, is made prominent in more than one place in 
Shakespeare's writings, and will therefore receive a share of atten- 
tion as the chapter progresses. Farther on in the same " tale " is 
found an illustration of the wide-spread popular error that abortion 
is so often the result of emotional causes. " How fares our gracious 
lady? As well as one so great, and so forlorne, may hold together. 
On her frights and griefs (which never tender lady hath borne 
greater), she is somewhat before her time deliver'd." 

It is somewhat interesting to notice that in the aboA'^e quotation 
Shakespeare held almost identically to the ideas widely extant to- 
day as to the part played by mental disturbances in the production 
of abortion. Strange indeed it appears, that upon this point the 
average medical man of this advanced age should have gone so lit- 
tle beyond in exact scientific positivism the inherent knowledge of 
the non medical mind of two hundred and fifty years ago. Many 
medical minds of the present can see few causes of abortion other 
than those of mental emotions — and even here cause and effect are 
not usually very clearly associated in their minds. It is here as is 
too often the case in other medical cases with this class of loose 
thinkers, a declaration merely — a vagxie generality meant to sub- 
serve, for the present, a lack of real knowledge in relation to the 
subject. 

It is not denied that great mental shock may sometimes be the 
proximate agency in the production of premature uterine action and 
expulsion of the uterine contents ; but with the experience of many 
years as a guide the writer is lead to think it an unusual source of 
such trouble. In fact, the causes of women's being " somewhat before 



OBSTETRICS. 25 

their time deliver'd " are so numerous that to follow the subject 
through all its sinuosities, and into its multitudinous labyrinths, 
would make a volume. These causes may, for convenience, be 
formulated so as to cover most of the ground in this manner : 

1st. Causes which reside in the general system of the mother. 

2d. Those which reside alone (and are therefore local) in the re- 
productive system of the mother — and 

3d. Those which pertain or belong exclusively to the ovum itself. 

In regard to the first of these divisions it may be said to be by far 
the less frequent source of expulsion of the uterine contents. This 
fact is well illustrated by the well known truth that in tuberculosis, 
one of the gravest of the constitutional maladies, pregnancy seems 
actually to exert, for the time, a retarding influence in regard to 
its progress — abortions, premature deliveries, etc., being almost un- 
known occurrences as traceable to it. But there are other constitu- 
tional conditions in which the reproductive organs may participate 
only in a general way, in which miscarriages are very common in- 
deed, and most noticeable among these is, perhaps, constitutional 
syphilis. 

But it is not to chronic constitutional maladies alone that we may 
confine our remarks, as it is well known that acute maladies of va- 
rious kinds affecting the system at large are prone to be attended 
with this danger when happening in the pregnant woman. Of this 
class may be named typhoid fever and the exanthematous fevers, — 
small-pox, scarlatina, etc., in particular. Defective nutrition is 
the essential factor in the production of these accidents when oc- 
curring under such circumstances quite probably. The fruit withers 
and falls from its parent stem from lack of the food proper for its 
growth and nourishment. 

Causes of the second variety or class are almost innumerable, and 
therefore preponderate largely over all others in causing abortions. 
It is not to conditions of the uterus singly that this fact applies ; the 
womb is not alone at fault always. It may be some organ or tissue 
entirely independent of the uterus, which by its diseased condition 
or by its trespass upon the womb and the space which by right 
belongs to it, which causes all the trouble. A distended urinary 
bladder or a loaded rectum may do this ; an enlarged ovary, a 
dropsy of the Fallopian tube, an abscess in the veseco-uterine con- 
nective tissue, an haematocele in the recto-uterine cul-de-sac, tumors 
of the uterine walls, urinary calculi when large, exostoses when 



26 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

springing from any of the bony surfaces of tlie pelvic walls, tight 
corsets, and if it was said a thousand other extrinsic agencies local 
in their operation and outside of the womb itself operate as causes 
in the production of abortion, it would be no exaggeration. 

Besides these there are the mal-conditions belonging to the uterus 
proper which go to swell the list of causation. It may be set down 
as an axiomatic truth that an absolutely healthy womb does not expel 
its contents spontaneously prematurely, — that is, before the expira- 
tion of nine months after conception has occurred. It must be nor- 
mal in form, in structure, in size, in position, and in its attach- 
ments to insure a normal gestation. 

Malformations of this organ are usually congenital, and consist 
of a lack of development in some portion — commoulj^ of one horn 
or lateral portion of the organ, leaving it asymmetrical in outline and 
abridging the normal space which should constitute a proper uterine 
cavity, — thus rendering a progressive gestation impossible. Or the 
change in form may be the result of neoplasms, as in the growth of 
interstitial or other fibroid tumors, the effect of which upon the fer- 
tile function of the organ is mostly the same as in the foregoing con- 
genital condition. It is not always so, however, as pregnancy may 
and often does progress to its proper termination, a uterine tumor pres- 
ent notwithstanding. It must be normal in structure. The uterus, 
when its walls are thickened up with hyperplastic depositions, or 
when left in a state of sub-involution after child-birth or miscarriage, 
is in no condition to carry the burden of a pregnancy to the end. 

The muscular and mucous coats of the organ may at the same 
time be involved in this condition of turgescence and thickening, 
and whether one or both are involved the results are nearly the same. 
The vascular supply is not in healthy trim, — the distorted tissues have 
distorted vessels and nerves accompanying them, — the blood supply 
is here too small and there too great, the nerve force is unequally 
distributed, and neuralgia from plethora may involve one nerve fil- 
ament, while irritability of another may ensue from anemia. The 
local hemorrhage at one spot and local anemia at another, incident to 
change in tke vascular structure of the organ, are incompatible with 
the growth and maturity of the fruits of conception. Changes in the 
size and position of the womb, when not the result of the progress 
of the pregnancy itself, are prejudicial to the continuation of preg- 
nancy from the same general facts as narrated in the preceding 
paragraph, though in a less degree perhaps than when accompanied 



OBSTETRICS. 27 

by direct local lesions of the lining membrane of the organ. Endo- 
metritis is no doubt a fruitful source of the early discharge of the 
ovum. The change in the membrane being non-consonant with the 
nutrition and development of the conception, — if even conception 
occur under such a condition of the membrane. Endo-cervicitis is, 
however, the greater obstacle to the function of merely impreg- 
nation. 

The uterus is essentially a mobile organ when it is in its healthy 
condition, and anything that tends to interfere with this freedom of 
movement, — any event or condition which unduly encroaches upon or 
hampers it in its normal movements, surely have a tendency to pro- 
duce the unhappy event which ushers in and gave origin to this 
article. In its normal state it almost floats unconstrainedly in the 
pelvic cavity ; while the organ remains so we see few or no abortions. 

Let a cellulitis occur, and the organ become agglutinated by in- 
flammatory products and closely tied to some of the neighboring 
organs, even at a single point, and abortion then becomes the rule 
Instead of the exception. 

Then again as to the causes which reside in the ovum itself. 
These may reside alone in the sperm-cell. It may have in it vital 
elements suflflcient to fecundate the ovule, thereby exhaust itself 
and then wither and die. It may go further, but to die in the near 
future from the effects of a morbittc principle inherent in its own 
organization, as from the poison of syphilis for example ; and this 
condition may pertain to the ^erm-cell as well as the sperm-cell. 
Like other animal poisons, this also has under these circumstances 
the power of multiplication, as we see the terrible effects of it upon 
the person of the premature little being. 

The cause may reside or be engendered in the membranes, the 
umbilical cord, or in the placenta itself — inflammatory processes be- 
ing a large factor in such change as connected with these. Mechan- 
ical causes, such as detachments of the after-birth, knotting or twist- 
ing, or ruptures, etc., of the cord and membranes, are also among 
the contingencies which may cause a woman to be " before her time 
delivered." Enough has doubtless been said to prove that Shake- 
speare might have been correct in placing the miscarriage spoken of 
to the credit of fatigue and mental worry ; but then the chances 
are as one in a thousand that he tnight also have been mistaken. 
Syphilitic infection and hereditary taints are so common, doubtless 
among those whose marriages of consanguinity keep up the family 



28 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

chain for ages, that miscarriage should be the rule in place of the 
exception among tlie nobility of the old countries. 

As regards the age at which the menses appear, Shakespeare 
makes his lord commit an error in placing it absolutely at the age of 
fourteen years. It will be remembered that the parties of whom he 
is writing are located in Sicily, in latitude 36^ 40' and 38"^ 20' North, 
which, owing to its insular climate, would have much the same tem- 
perature as the south of France, where statistics show that the largest 
number of girls menstruate for the first time at from the fifteenth to 
the sixteenth year ; but the error most noticeable in this regard is in 
the case of Juliet, a native of Verona, which is situated in latitude 
45° 30' North, and in the gorges of the Tyrol, where a robust con- 
stitution would naturally retard the eruption for a year or two ; in 
this high latitude a large majority of young females do not " see " 
until beyond the sixteenth, and a large proportion not until the 
seventeenth or even the eighteenth year. 

We find that Juliet was fourteen at the time of her death, and the 
language of lady Capulet that, " younger than you, here in Verona, 
ladies of esteem, are made already mothers: by my count, I was 
your mother, much upon these years that you are now a maid" — 
which would certainly have placed the good lady's first period as 
early as her thirteenth year. 

I know it may be claimed by those critically inclined that the 
aristocratic families to which these personages are supposed to have 
belonged would have brought them "out" much sooner than the 
commonalty ; and that the excitement incident to gay life could 
have brought about a premature development of the sexual system, 
which would save the "bard of Avon " any just criticism from a com- 
mon pen ; but this may be met with the fact that the luxurious ease 
common to the great in our day and nation was not enjoyed even 
among the princes and nobles of the barbarous age of which the 
scene and incidents in Romeo and Juliet claim to be a part. The 
author, no doubt, obtained his data fromthetime the menses usually 
appear among the women of England, and approximates the time or 
age with perhaps as much accuracy as do the doctors, notwith- 
standing their special enquiries. 

In the passage next to be quoted, there is a legal question to be 
discussed, and as Lord Campbell once wrote a work entitled "Shake- 
speare's Legal Acquirements," I certainly should, if I knew just 
how and where, procure a copy of his work to assist me in the mat- 



OBSTETRICS. 29 

ter. It IS the case of the doubtful progeny of the wife of Leontes, 
the king of Sicily. The king had thrown his queen into prison upon 
a charge of adultery with his former friend, Polixenes, king of 
Bohemia. The queen was delivered in prison, and the good lady in 
attendance on her desired to carry the babe to the king to see if its 
presence might not soften the rigor of his " unsane lunes," but the 
jailor had some doubts as to his powers under the law to let the 
babe pass out of the prison doors without a warrant ; he was not 
sure but that he might gravely infringe the law in letting it pass, and 
thus bring down the wrath of the authorities upon his own devoted 
head. The lady was equal to the emergency however — as women 
always are when placed in trying positions of such a character, and 
pleaded with the prison officer in these terms : " You need not fear 
it, sir ; the child was prisoner to the womb, and is, by law and pro- 
cess of great nature, thence freed and enfranchis'd ; not a party to the 
anger of the kiiig, nor guilty of, if any be, the trespass of the queen." 
It does not, however, come further in the scope of this work to treat 
of the legal aspects of this case, as forensic medicine will find a very 
limited place in its pages ; but it matters little what the lex scripta 
of the case may have been, justice said "let her pass." 

This same woman, in her desire to save the queen from the foul 
charge of inconstancy to her marriage vow, presented the babe to 
the king, and endeavored to convince him of the legality of its 
paternity by the following exhibit : 

" Behold, my lords, although the print be little, the whole matter 
and copy of the father: eyes, nose, lip; the trick of his frown, 
his forehead ; nay, the valley, the pretty dimples of his chin and 
cheek ; his smiles ; the very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger. — 
And, thou, good goddess Nature, which hast made it so like him 
that got it, if thou hast the ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all 
colours, no yellow in't ; lest she suspect, as he does, her children 
not her husband's." 

To throw the odium of induction of premature birth on the hands 
of the king, see how closely and with what tact Shakespeare keeps 
to his points; he says, "although the print be little,'' etc., thus 
making it correspond in size and age. 

The queen was brought before the husband for trial, and makes 
her own defence in these words : "To me can life be no commodity : 
the crown and comfort of my life, your favor, I do give lost, for I 
do feel it gone, but know not how it went. My second joy, and 



30 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

first-fruits of my body, from his presence I aru barr'd, like one 
infectious. My third comfort, starr'd most unluckily, is from m}^ 
breast, — the innocent milk in its most innocent mouth, hal'd out to 
murder : (T/ie child had been banished by order of the king) myself on 
every post proclaim'd a strumpet: with immodest hatred, the child- 
bed privilege denied, which 'longs to women of all fashion: lastly, 
hurrie'd here to this place i' the open air, before I have got strength 
of limb." {^^ Limit" in Shakespeare.) 

It seems that the law of nature has so indelibly impressed this 
matter of the "child-bed privilege" upon the human race, that 
even the untutored savage is tamely subordinated to its sway. The 
deference paid even by the American Indian to his squaw, while in 
the parturient condition, was aptly illustrated in a story narrated 
to the writer once by an English lady of intelligence, who had long 
resided among the aborigines on our western border. The narrative 
interested me much at the time, but as the particulars have escaped 
my memory, I can only present it in substance. The wife and her 
lord, husband, or "buck," or whatever title is Used bj'^ them to 
denote the head of the household, had been on inimical terms for a 
time, had had a domestic broil for a few days, and to rid himself 
of the unpleasant contiguity of a morose wife, perhaps, had gone 
off on a hunt. While thus absent, the squaw took it into her head 
to be confined. She had, on all former occasions, been attended by 
an old woman, whose fee, if anything at all, was but a nominal one. 
This time she employed the " medicine man," who confronted the 
"buck" on his return with his bill, the which the luckless wight 
was glad to liquidate at the expense of his most valuable pony. 
It was an obstetric fee, and his honor was too exalted to quibble over 
it, be the sum small or great. Herein could many of his pale-faced 
brothers learn a wholesome lesson. 

The babe who had been banished by her father to a strange coast, 
and who was thought by the king to have been murdered by those 
to whose charge she was given, was however trusted to the tender 
mercies of a wilderness — found and raised by a shepherd, and when 
grown courted and married the prince of the country. She then 
returned to the land of her nativity, where she learned her own 
history, and was taken to see her mother's statue — who, it was 
.supposed, had died in prison. The old king, who was yet alive, 
saj^s to his son-in-law: " Your mother was most true to wedlock, 
prince, for she did print your royal father (Polixenes) off, con- 



OBSTETRICS. 31 

ceiving you ;" whilst the bride reached forth her hand to the statue 
of her mother, saying: "Lady, dear queen, that ended where I 
began, give me that hand to kiss." ('Twas her mother, mid not a 
statue.) 

Autolicus, at the shepherd's feast, tells the gaping plebeians of 
a usurer's wife who was delivered of twenty money-bags at a birth, 
one of his fair hearers praying to be excused from marrying a 
usurer ! 

In King John, A. i., S. i., occurs another case involving an 
amount of scientific inquiry, both medically and legally, to invest 
it with special interest. It is a case where a charge of illegitimacy 
was made, based upon the fact that a viable child was born fourteen 
weeks before "term" — counting from the period of the return of 
the husband, who had been from home in a distant country, in a 
very protracted absence. To get more fairly at the points in the 
case, it wUl be necessary to give a somewhat lengthy extract: 

Ki7ig John. "What men are you? 

Philip Faulconbridge (called the Bastard). Your faithful sub- 
ject I, a gentleman born in Northamptonshire, and eldest son, as I 
suppose, to Robert Faulconbridge, a soldier, by the honor-giving 
hand of Cceur-de-Lion knighted in the field. 

King John. What art thou? (To another.) 

Robert. Son and heir to that same Faulconbridge. 

King John. Is that the elder, and thou the heir? You came not 
of one mother then, it seems. 

Bastard. Most certain of one mother, mighty king ; that is well 
known, and, as I think, one father; but for the certain knowledge 
of that truth I put j^ou o'er to heaven and my mother: of that I 
doubt, as all men's children may. (Here we have, what occurs 
very rarely in Shakespeare's writings, a contradiction in the same 
paragraph ; he first thinks he is, and then he thinks he is not, his 
brother's father's son — that is, old Robert Faulconbridge's son.) 

Elinor. Out on thee, rude man ! thou dost shame thy mother, 
and wound her honor with this diffidence. 

Bastard. I, madam? No, I have no reason for it ; that is my 
brother's place, and none of mine; the which if he can prove, 'a 
pops me out from fair five hundred pounds a year. Heaven guard 
my mother's honor and my land ! 

King John. A good blunt fellow. Why, being younger born, 
dost he lay claim to thy inheritance? 



32 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

Bastard. I know not why, except to get the land. But once he 
slancler'd me with bastardy: buc whe'r I be as true begot, or no, 
that still I lay upon my mother's head ; but that I am as well begot, 
my liege (fair fall the bones that took the pains for me!), compare 
our faces, and be judge yourself. If old Sir Robert did beget us 
both, and were our father, and this son like him, 

O ! old Sir Robert, father, on my knee 

I give heaven thanks I was not like to thee. 

King John. Why, what a madcap hath heaven sent us here. 

Elinor. He hath a trick of Coeur-de-Lion's face ; the accent of 
his tongue affecteth him. Do you not read some tokens of my son 
in the large composition of this man? 

King John. Mine eye hath well examined his parts, and finds 
them perfect Richard. — Sirrah, speak: what doth move you to 
claim your brother's land? 

Bastard. Because he hath a half-face, like my father, with that 
half-face would he have all my land: a half-fac'd groat, five 
hundred pounds a year! 

Robert. My gracious liege, when that my father liv'd, your 
brother did employ my father much. 

Bastard. Well, sir, bj'- this you cannot get my land. Your tale 
must be how he employ' d my mother. 

Robert. And once despatch' d him in an embassy to Germany, 
there, with the emperor, to treat of high affairs touching that time. 
The advantage of his absence took the king, and in the meantime 
sojourn' d at my father's; when how he did prevail, I shame to 
speak, but truth is truth : large lengths of seas and shores between 
my father and my mother lay, a:s I have heard my father speak 
himself, when this same lusty gentleman was got. Upon his death- 
bed he by will bequeath'd his lands to me; and took it, on his 
death, that this, my mother's son, was none of his ; and if he were, 
he came into the world full fourteen weeks before the course of 
time." 

It has been argued, that if a child born at the fifth or even the 
sixth month survive, this fact alone should be held as evidence of 
illegitimacy — that is, where concurrent circumstances point to the 
fact ; but according to common English law it is held that it is not 
essential that a child be born capable of living to any specific age, 
or to the full of a certain number of hours, days or months, to 



OBSTETRICS. 33 

entitle it to inherit ; but it is sufficient if the child have been born 
alive. 

This construction of the law certainly would vest the rights of 
inheritance in the Bastard, the point of legitimacj^ alone considered ; 
for if it was a fact that he was born at the end of the twenty-second 
week of gestation, he could not only have lived, but could even 
have grown into the " lusty gentleman " which we now find him. 
Though of the legal aspect of the case, as regards rights to 
property, it is not our province to write, but the question as to 
whether a child born fourteen weeks prior to the end of the time 
when an ordinary gestation is completed — that is, at the end of the 
twenty-second week — can live and grow to adult age, is clearly one 
for the science of medicine to settle. Upon theoretical assumptions 
alone this question could not be adjusted; only facts gathered from 
actual observation of the witness, or those derived from records of 
undoubted authenticity, should be offered as testimony by a medical 
expert in a case of this kind. From the most reliable data which 
we are able to gather, it does not seem improbable that a case may 
occasionally happen where a child even at the early period of the 
twentieth week may not only be born viable, but may survive to 
puberty or to old age. I quote two cases from Taylor : 

"Dr. Barker, of Dumfries, narrates a case in which a child was 
born at the one hundred and fifty-eighth day of pregnancy, or at 
the end of twenty-two weeks and four days after intercourse. The 
child weighed one pound and measured eleven inches. It did not 
suck properly till after the lapse of a month, and she didn't walk 
until she was nineteen months old ; was sprightly, but at the age 
of three and a half years only weighed twenty-nine and a half 
pounds." 

On a trial involving the legitimacy of the child of the wife of a 
minister, which was born on the one hundred and twenty-fourth 
day after marriage, one reputable medical witness testified that he 
had " attended a case where the child was certainly born at the end 
of the nineteenth week of pregnancy, and the child lived a year and 
a half." 

Occurrences of this kind are so rare, however, that the judgment 
rendered by king John — given upon that plea alone — that is, had he 
based his decision upon the fact that viability is probable in a child 
born at the end of twenty-two pregnant weeks, would certainly have 
been giving too great a weight to a fact which can only be admitted 



34 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN 

as a possibility; and besides, the moral circumstances connected 
with the case would, if proven before an impartial jury, have cer- 
tainly reversed the judgment of the king. Indeed, after the 
decision had been rendered in favor of Philip, lady Faulconbridge 
admitted his illegitimac3^ I will give the language used by the 
king, and the reasoning which he brought to bear in guiding him in 
his decision : 

Jolm. [To Robert Faulconbridge.'] " Sirrah, j^our brother is 
legitimate: j^our father's wife did after wedlock bear him ; and if 
she did play false, the fault was hers, which fault lies on the 
hazards of all husbands that marry wives." 

The king did not pretend to found the verdict on justice, but 
only adhered blindly to a rule which had clearly been shown to have 
in this case an exception, that wedlock is presumptive evidence of 
the legality of all the progeny produced within its pale. Were we 
called to testify in a case of the kind, we should give it as an 
opinion that in a case where the child had been born fourteen weeks 
prior to the end of the thirty-sixth week of the gestaflve condition, 
that grave doubts might be entertained of its legitimacy, if its 
development and other circumstances gave an 3'^ room for suspicion 
that the wife had been " sluc'd " in the husband's absence, and his 
"pond fish'd by Sir Smile, his next neighbor." This proved to 
have been the case with the Faulconbridge farailj^, the lady herself 
admitting the fact thus : 

"King Richard was thj' father. By long and vehement suit I 
was seduc'd to make room for him in my husband's bed. — Heaven! 
lay not my trangression to my charge ; thou art \to Philip] the 
issue of my dear offence." This is sufficient to establish the error 
of John's decision, and ought to have established the validity of 
Robert's title. But enough. 

Elinor, widow of king Henry the Second, and her daughter-in- 
law Constance, were on inimical terms, and bandied foul epithets 
without stint or measure. The daughter thus accuses her mother : 
"Thy sins are visited upon this poor child ; the canon of the law is 
laid on him, being but the second generation removed from thy 
sin conceiving womb." 

It is natural to infer from the foregoing paragraph that history 
would give some data upon which to found the intimation which is 
there clearly made touching a lack of chastity on the part of Elinor, 



OBSTETRICS. 35 

the widow'd queen of the second Henry ; from the history of that 
period now at ray command, it is not apparent that such charges 
were really ever preferred against her. This same Constance, who 
seems to have been the widow of the king's eldest son, and who 
had died before his father, somewhere about 1185 or 6, leaving one 
son, Arthur, who his mother, then a scheming widow, wished 
to place upon the English throne ; and failing in accomplishing 
her purpose, even after entering into an arrangement with the king 
of France, who ultimately "went back on her," — her son in the 
meantime being taken prisoner by his uncle John, who was then 
king, and who was accused of murdering the boy with his own 
hand — she thus pours forth a tirade of bitterness against mankind 
in general, ending in these words: "Let wives with child pray, 
that their burdens may not fall this day, lest their hopes pro- 
digiously be cross'd." Next we have, "Have we more sons, or 
are we like to have? Is not my teeming date drunk up with time, 
and wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age, and rob me of a 
happy mother's name?" This was the language of the wife of 
the Duke of York, in Richard the Second, when expostulating 
with her husband, who had determined to acquaint the king of a 
plot against his life, — his own son being one of the conspirators ; 
she then goes on: " Hadst thou groan'd for him as I have done, 
thou wouldst be more pitiful. But now I know thy mind ; thou 
dost suspect that I have been disloyal to th}- bed, and that he is a 
bastard, not thy son." 

York flies to the king, and whilst he is divulging the plot his wife 
also hastens thither, when the old duke accosts her thus : 

"Thou frantic woman, what dost thou make here? 
Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear? " 

It would seem that each of them had a keen sense of the desola- 
tion attending the "sere and yellow leaf" of age, and were sad 
in the prospect of henceforth walking the down grade to the tomb, 
without even a pleasing retrospection to win them for a moment 
from the cheerless monotony of their journey. Asperity is not, in 
general, a concomitant of this period of human existence — a pensive 
realization of the fact that the spring-time of life has passed — the 
seed has been sown, the heyday of existence has been reached and 
the harvest gathered in, and the husbandman has nothing more to 
do but set thoughtfully by through the autumn and winter, with his 



36 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

hands resting on the top of his staff, contemplating the shadows 
as they silently fall around him. 

Patriotism, or love of one's king, would hardly, in these days of 
self-love, bear such fruits of loyalty as was apparent in this good 
but mistaken old York. 

Prince "Hal," the riotous companion of Falstaff, and afterwards 
the wise and good king, Henry the Fifth, was renowned for his 
sound and pertinent witticisms. Upon the question of population, 
on one occasion, he made the remark: "The midwives say, the 
children are not in fault, whereupon the world increases, and kin- 
dreds are mightily strengthened ; " which makes it apparent that 
" Hal," had he lived in this age, would no doubt be a worthy mem- 
ber of the London Dialectical Society, and discuss " Social Science" 
with as much logic as Herbert Spencer and the rest of them. 

It is also apparent that "Sir John" himself had an idea or two in 
the same direction, as he places his estimate of prince John before 
the world in plain language ; he made the acquaintance of the 
prince after the close of the military campaign in which he. Sir 
John, won such renown, and upon the occasion when he delivered 
up to the prince the rebel prisoner Colevile ; here is the colloquy : 

Falstaff. "My lord, I beseech you, give me leave to go through 
Glostershire ; and when you come to court, stand my good lord, 
pray, in your good report. 

Prince John. Fare you well, Falstaff; I, in my condition, shall 
better speak of you than you deserve. 

Falstaff. (To himself.) I would, you had but the wit: 'twere 
better than your dukedom. — Good faith, this same young, sober- 
blooded boy doth not love me, nor a man cannot make him laugh ; 
but that's no marvel, he drinks no wine. There's never any of 
these demure boys come to any proof, for their drink doth so over- 
cool their blood, and making many fish meals, that they fall into a 
kind of male green-sickness ; and then, when they marry, they get 
wenches." 

In these days, when the action of all alcoholic liquors upon the 
human economy occupies so unsettled a position in the minds of 
therapeutists, it is difficult to say whether the idea entertained as to 
its powers in influencing the sex of our offspring, as suggested in 
the last quotation, is true or false. Certain it is, however, that wine 
is a great provocative to venereal appetite, and from that fact it 



OBSTETRICS. 37 

might be inferred tliat it miglit on occasions spur one of tliose cold 
j^ouths into a condition of amorous excitement, wliereby he might be- 
get a boy in place of a " wench." This could only have reason for 
a basis however, under very special restrictions, or when adminis- 
tered by the direction of a scientific mind, with a view to build up 
the weakened functions, as in the following case, treated by Dr. 
Wilks, an English physician, very lately : 

" A little boy, aged five years and a half, was admitted to Guy's 
hospital in an extreme state of emaciation on Oct. 2.5th. No disease 
could be found in him, and it was thought his ailments might be 
due merely to starvation. In spite, however, of good living and a 
little wine, he did not improve, and therefore, after having been 
in till Dec. 15th, he was ordered one drachm of rectified spirits 
four times a day. In a few days he was better, was soon able to 
leave his bed, and has been growing fatter and stronger ever 
since." 

The "sack," wine, etc., taken in excess, according to the plan 
of Falstaff, would not have any tendency to aid in the production 
of robust children, either of the one sex or the other, as it is 
a lamentable fact that a large majorit}' of the pitiful humanity that 
people our public charities are the offspring of drunken parents ; 
this is not only so where poverty is the cause of the change, but is 
also the case where physical and particularly mental infirmitj'' is the 
cause which demands the interference of charity — thus plainly 
telling us that though Falstaff' s idea might reach consummation 
one time in a thousand, it will not do to build upon as a rule. 
Besides, sack nor any of its kindred compounds are likel}^ to bene- 
fit " chlorosis " either in the male or female. 

The eating of fish certainly finds a misapplication in this instance, 
as it is now supposed that the white meats, and most noticeably 
among them fish, serves as the best pabulum for brain workers, thus 
conducing to a mental and physical state the exact antipode to both 
• green sickness " and the desire to the abuse of the sexual function. 
At least this is claimed as regards the application to more elegant 
society, though criticism might find vantage ground by referring to 
the mental, moral and physical status of the inhabitants of fishing 
villages — those whose diet consists almost solely of fish. The 
same might, perhaps, be said however of any people who are not 
accustomed to a diversity of alimentary substances. I do not find 
any statistical data to show that in fishing communities female 
predominates over male births. 



38 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAX. 

If drinking ''sack" bad been the handmaiden of procreation in 
the day whereof we write, we might have reposed some confidence 
in the claim of pregnancy put in by the notorious bawd Mrs. Doll 
Tearsheet ; but even with this beverage as a " partus accelerator" 
we doubt whether she ever conceived or brought forth anything 
save a bundle of notorious falsehoods, as is the wont of all her 
class. At the time she makes the asseveration of pregnane}'' she is 
in the hands of the officers of the law, and perhaps only feigned 
pregnancy to shield herself from the consequences of crime, as it 
is not at all likely that one so far gone as she in the trade of licen- 
tiousness would become fruitful. Here is what 'she saj^s in con- 
versation with the officer : 

1st Officer. "The constables have delivered her over to me, and 
she shall have whipping-cheer enough I warrant her. There hath 
been a man or two lately killed about her. 

Doll. Nut-hook, nut-hook, you lie. Come on : I'll tell thee 
what, thou damned tripe-visaged rascal, an the child I now do go 
with do miscarry, thou hadst better thou hadst struck thy mother, 
thou paper-faced villain. 

Hostess. O, the lord, that Sir John were come! he would make 
this a blood}^ day to some bod3\ But I pray God the fruit of her 
womb do miscarry! " 

The gestation of " Mistress Doll " was evidently a hoax, because, 
as stated above, it is seldom indeed that a female so old in sexual 
license as "Mrs. Doll" preserves the power of reproduction. The 
oft-repeated and finally the continued engorgement of the pelvic 
organs incident to the frequent erotic excitement to which such 
women are constantly exposed, produces a change in the tissues of 
the reproductive organs incompatible with fruitful ovulation and 
germination. It is well known that these women, when some years 
advanced in their lamentable trade, do not become pregnant — the 
probable sin of abortion, added to their other excesses, thus being 
spared to them. 

In King Henry the Sixth is used, illustratively, the term " a 
child's bearing cloth." Obstetric literature and practice now 
recognize no article of the lying-in chamber by that name specifi- 
cally, but the presumption is that the writer has reference to the 
cloth on which the nurse receives the new-born babe from the hands 
of the accoucheur, immediately after its separation from the secun- 
dines — the good nurse usually, in the hurr}'^ and excitement of the 



OBSTETRICS. 39 

moment, seizing the first article with which her hand comes in 
contact, whether it be a bed comforter or a lace pocket-handkerchief. 

I had a ludicrous incident in this connexion to befall myself on 
one occasion. As is usual, I believe, among doctors of the present 
day, I had "pulled off my coat and rolled up my sleeves," the 
better to facilitate my accoucheural duties ; and when the labor was 
finished, my hands washed, etc., and I ready to take my leave, 
behold I could not find my coat ! After much search and diligent 
enquiry, however, it was found deeply hidden in the recesses of 
the cradle, with the new-comer snugly ensconced therein ! I con- 
soled myself with the remembrance of the old saw that " accidents 
will happen," etc. 

In Henry the Sixth is also an account of the trial and condem- 
nation of the "Maid of Orleans," wherein the Poet attaches afoul 
blemish to the character of that unfortunate female, unworthy of a 
great man — one which should have called down the stern condem- 
nation not only of the mighty and chivalrous nation to which Joan of 
Arc belonged, but also of the generous and noble of every land; this 
is more particularly so, since history gives us no shadow of a 
ground for sustaining him in an assumption, which he only put 
forth, doubtless, to gratify a national antagonism that has from the 
earliest days existed between the Celts and Anglo-Saxons. He 
brings her forward in a pretext to procure a stay of execution of 
the sentence of death by setting up a plea of pregnancy, which 
stay was allowable at that period, provided a commission of mid- 
wives, who were usually appointed to investigate the matter, re- 
ported that she the condemned were found actually to be in that 
condition. She says to her enemies: "Will nothing turn your 
unrelenting hearts? Then, Joan, discover thine infirmity, that 
warranteth by law to be thy privilege. — I am with child, ye bloody 
homicides : murder not, then, the fruit within my womb, although 
ye hale me to a violent death." It was decided not to entertain 
this appeal, and the unhappy "visionary" was roasted at the 
stake. 

Referring to the custom then common of appointing a commission 
of midwives to determine a question in science which involved the 
life or death of an individual may seem to us in the highest degree 
farcical, but in reality a board of examiners composed of such 
material would knoio just as much with regard to the certainty of 
the pregnant condition as would a commission of the most enlight- 



40 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

ened physicians. By this I mean to say that there are no means 
yet known to the medical world by which pregnancy can be posi- 
tively known. Certainly there are many ways by which the truth 
is approximated, and by which the intelligent physician may be able 
to satisfy his own mind as to a given case, but to say yes or no 
under oath would be quite another matter. We are furnished with 
much better and more specific data when we wish to say a woman 
is not pregnant. The uterus that is not increased in size above the 
normal (to that woman) is not pregnant. It may be increased in its 
dimensions and yet not be pregnant however, and this is often, very 
often, the case. 

In forming our diagnosis as to whether pregnancj'^ exists, it must 
first be ascertained whether or not there has been a chance for con- 
tact between the seminal elements of the female and male ; this is 
a requirement indispensable to fecundation. This union or blend- 
ing of the sexual elements must find a proper nidus in which to 
germinate. It is not essential, as would appear from the investiga- 
tions of Sims, that there be actual contact between the persons of 
the parties who furnish the spermatozoa and the ovule. The evi- 
dence positive that the copulative act has happened can only assure 
us that we have a first stepping-stone, and nowhere, in any 
direction, is, perhaps, to be seen a positive footing. Doubt of the 
pregnancy may yet be as prominent as ever unless there be present 
other phenomena characteristic of the condition. Of these, prob- 
ably, suspension of the menses, morning nausea, irrascibility of 
temper, appetite for unusual articles of diet, salivation, evident 
growth of the uterus — are as unfailing signs as can be observed 
during the early months. The click of the foetal heart, at a later 
period, is of some value. 

Of course it is not the province of a work like this to enumerate 
all that might be said upon a subject so extended, but the object 
sought in the foregoing is merelj'^ to call the attention of the reader 
to a realization of the fact of the limited amount of 2^ositive knowl- 
edge possessed, even at this late day, by the profession upon this 
seemingly simple subject. It is thought by persons outside of 
medicine, very generally, that any medical man ought to be com- 
petent to solve positively a problem which to their seeming is very 
plain. 

The doctrine lately put forth by Jorisenne, that pregnancy may 
be diagnosed as early as the conclusion of the first month by a 



OBSTETRICS. 41 

uniformity in the frequency of the pulse in the erect, reclining or 
horizontal position of the body of the female, is perhaps of little 
worth as a positive means ; it has, however, the merit of easily 
being put to the test of actual experimentation. If found to be 
true upon further investigation, it will prove all the more valuable 
from the fact of its simplicit3^ 

King Edward in battle with the forces led by the famous Warwick 
was defeated, and himself taken prisoner. Queen Elizabeth thus 
laments the catastrophe : 

Rivers. "The news, I must confess, are full of grief; 
Yet, gracious madam, bear it as you may: 
Warwick maj^ lose, that now has won the day. 
Elizabeth. Till then fair hope must hinder life's decay ; and I 
the rather wean me from despair, for love of Edward's offspring in 
my womb: this is it that makes me bridle passion, and bear with 
mildness my misfortune's cross: Ay, ay, for this I draw in many a 
tear, and stop the rising of blood-sucking sighs. 

Lest with ray sighs or tears I blast or drown 

King Edward's fruit, true heir to th' English crown." 

Pregnancy exerts a very powerful influence upon the mental con- 
dition of many patients, elevating and enlivening the spirits of 
some, while it causes depression and despondency in others. It is 
common, I apprehend, for a large majority of women to pass 
through the gestative process 'mid more of apprehension and 
solicitude than is generally supposed. This is a necessary accom- 
paniment of the pains and certain amount of danger which every 
female instinctivel}'' recognizes as inseparably connected with the 
parturient function ; it is under such circumstances that liope — that 
sentiment or principle of the human soul without which all in this 
life would be black and comfortless despair, comes in to sustain 
and encourage them. If there is ever an hour in human existence 
when a person needs the kindly offices and sympathies of husband 
and friends, it is found in the life of woman during pregnancy. 
To carry to a successful termination a gestation which is the pro- 
duct of the man she loves, a woman will make the most unheard-of 
sacrifices ; and more particularly is this so if the partner to her 
condition be dead or in trouble. The whole idea of Elizabeth could 
be summed up in the simple sentence — "something to love and 
live for." 



42 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

It is a curious but cogent commentary upon the force and char- 
acter of the writings of Shakespeare, that although his delineations 
are drawn always in a merely histrionic spirit, yet they are so faith- 
ful a portraiture of the times, places and people to whom they apply, 
that even at this day, and among the most scholarly people, they 
are accepted as veritable history. There is little doubt, however, 
but that the paucity of books at the day in which he wrote rend- 
ered the drama a means not only of amusement but also a source 
of knowledge to the play-goers ; and hence the incentive for keep- 
ing to the real as much as possible in the cultivation of theatric 
art. In the present age the morning paper is our educator, and 
something onl}*" to please is brought upon the stage. Fiction of 
the purest type is now the fashion. 

The good but imbecile king, Henry the Sixth, whose reign was 
practically ended at the battle of Tewkesbury, and who, after a 
rigorous confinement in the Tower at London was supposed by 
historians to have been murdered by the usurping Richard the 
" hunchback," — the same monster in partial human form who is 
made to commit the deed, with his own hand, by the dramatist, — 
had the history of his own entrance into the world given to him, by 
the imprisoned monarch, at the time when he went into the prison- 
cell to murder him. 

The good king knowing full well his bloody intent, and the utter 
hopelessness of asking mercy at his relentless hands, makes good 
use of his few remaining moments to paint the monster, to his own 
face, in all his hideousness. He says: " The owl shriek'd at thy 
birth, an evil sign : the night-crow cried, a boding luckless tune ; 
dogs howled, and hideous tempests shook down trees : the raven 
rook'd her on the chimney's top, and chattering pies in dismal 
discord sung. Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain, and yet 
brought forth less than a mother's hope ; to-wit, — an indigest, de- 
formed lump, not like the fruit of such a goodly tree. Teeth hadst 
thou in thy head, when thou wast born, to signify thou com'st to 
bite the world : and if the rest be true which I have heard, thou 
com'st to — " 

Here Richard stabs him ; but after he has committed the bloody 
tragedy, he concludes the history himself : — "I have often heard 
my mother say, I came into the world with my legs forward. Had 
I not reason, think you, to make haste and seek their ruin that 
usurped our right.? The midwife wonder'd; and the women cried, 
' Jesus, bless us ! he is born with teeth ; ' and so I was." 



OBSTETRICS. 43 

We note in the foregoing description of the parturient stage in 
woman the same wonderful accuracy of detail in which our author 
is usually so fertile. Did he learn all this from his own observa- 
tion, or was this wonderful tact in looking into human character 
inherent? I have thought it must be that he knevj intuitively — that 
a man in an ordinary lifetime, no difference how profoundly ob- 
servant powers might be developed in him, nor how favorable his 
•opportunities for observation, could never have learned so much of 
human nature as is evinced in his writings. 

See how he names the leading facts connected with labor. First 
he makes it occur in the night — making it coincide in this particular 
with the common time of its occurring ; then he makes the night 
one of the dismal kind, — thus placing it in close relation perhaps 
to fact. Night seems actually to be the time in which most labors 
happen, and had nights are the ones most likely to be chosen 
^y — what? for the occurrence of the labor. I was going to say 
chosen by the mother, but then accuracy of expression forbade my 
doing so, because the poor mother has no choice in the matter. I 
was then going to say the babe chose the time at which to come into 
the outer world, but here again I am checked in reckless assertion, 
and made to acknowledge humbly that no one knows why nights — 
nights in which hideous tempests shake down trees — are the most 
seemly for such occasions, in the view of that nameless cause which 
man knows not of. 

We can see the profound superstition of the age holding place 
even in the mind of Shakespeare himself, in his allusions to the 
hooting of the owl, the boding luckless tune of the night-crow, the 
howling of the sleepless dog, the croak of the raven and the chat- 
tering of the pies. Who among us, even now, are entirely free 
from a small degree of the same.'' Then again, the assertion that 
Richard came into the world with teeth would no doubt in that age 
have excited wonder and been grounds for forebodings of good or 
of evil for the possessor, just as the whim of the nurses might have 
dictated. This departure from the ordinary law of development is 
not often observed even among professional midwives and obste- 
tricians of large practice, although it has been many times noticed. 
Why it does not happen oftener is a matter for wonder, as of all 
the histological elements which go to make up the human body 
teeth are found to be oftener generated in error than any other 
tissue, and this always during intra-uterine life. This curious fact 



44 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

is, however, oftener observed to happen in females, — the favorite 
situation for their development being the ovary. As many as three 
hundred fully developed teeth have been found in a single ovary. 
Thej'^ are however also noticed in tumors of the male — more par- 
ticularly, I believe, as connected with the testes. 

Deviations from normal development occurring previous to the 
termination of foetal existence are embraced under the scientific 
name (cyphosis) Teratolog}'', — the signification of which is "mon- 
ster:" — an " indigest deformed lump" is what our author well 
names it in the case of Richard. The causes of these lacks of 
proper development are susceptible of being viewed from two 
stand-points — tlie one pertaining to the parents, the other to the 
foetus itself. In regard to the first, it is believed that the germ 
furnished by either or by both parents may be diseased or defective 
in form or composition, and thus by transmission we will have lack 
of a perfect offspring. Or, then, the impression may be made on 
the plastic tissues of a healthy foetus while in utero by various 
causes operating on it, such causes being themselves contained in 
the womb also in some instances, and thus acting directly upon the 
offspring ; while another class of causes may be found to be extra 
uterine, but yet having their seat in the pelvic cavity, — or yet again 
they may reside outside of the mother's bodj', but produce, when 
brought into activity, like results. Of the first of these we can 
know but little. They may pertain to an undue proximity of 
some point in the developing tissue of the child with some point 
— as of a uterine tumor, for example, or a pelvic exostosis — in the 
mother. A nodule in the placental tissue, or a knotted umbil- 
ical cord may lie so in contact with the soft tissues during foetal 
development as by its pressure to cause a failure of organization 
at a given point. Of course these are but hypotheses, — because, 
as I said above, etiological factors belonging to this category are 
very obscure. 

These causes may operate upon one or more points of the foetus 
at the same time, thus producing one or more species of malforma- 
tion in the same person. The law which seems to be always fol- 
lowed in Teratology may be formulated somewhat intelligibly in 
the following manner : 

1st, Dissimilar parts of the body never become united, — as a 
union between an arm and a foot ; nor is a hand ever found attached 
to a leg. It is only parts which are developed from the same 



OBSTETRICS. 45 

isolated mass or •' germinal spot," if we may so term it, which 
become thus united. 

2d. Malformed parts are restricted to their proper place on or in 
the body. 

3d. No malformed organ ever loses entirely its own character ; 
that is, some of its form, structure or function will remain, no 
difference how great the deformity. Nor will a deformed animal 
lose its generic distinction. The dog in the process of development 
may appear with an abbreviated tail, yet he is a dog all the same. 

4th. Double deformities are always of the same sex. No men- 
tion is made by any observer worthy of credence wherein the male 
and female have been found united in the same or a similar manner 
as were the Siamese Twins. 

The second class of causes which produce malformations of the 
foetus, or arrest of its complete development, are to be found in the 
numerous class of external agencies which may operate through, 
of course, the medium of the mother's tissues. These would in- 
clude mainly agencies of a mechanical nature, and are, therefore, 
so numerous and so diversified in kind that it would be superfluous 
to enumerate them here. 

It would appear to one who gives thought to the subject, and 
analyzes closely the mental traits given to Richard by Shakespeare, 
that they belong more to that class of hunchbacks the deformity in 
whom occurs at a post natal period, — those who are congenitally de- 
crepit usually lacking in their mental make-up the witticisms which 
render the others so companionable, and the sarcasm which is in 
them such a prominent characteristic. In the latter, also, what 
they lack in physical powers to render pugnacity successful they 
find supplied to them in the sting at the point of the tongue. 

We find two causes operating to render the labor of Richard's 
mother severe, and to cause the woman who brought him forth 
to feel " more than a mother's pains." These were the deform- 
ity and the presentation of the feet, either of which was suflScient 
doubtless to produce more pain than in a normal labor ; while 
both, occurring at once, would complicate the case yet more. Of 
course, in a case of presentation of the feet the preparatory stage 
of the labor is much prolonged, from the lack of the steady, even 
pressure of the head ; and the pain and suffering are augmented 
accordingly. Many women also suffer much from an impossibility 
to speedily deliver the head. The accuracy of the observation 



46 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

then, as applied to these two points, in our author's description,, 
mainly defy the criticism of even the present era. 

But the foregoing description of the mental and physical com- 
ponents of Richard the Third is not by any means given in full, and 
consequently all that may be written upon them cannot be deduced 
from a text so incomplete. The full description of his make-up, 
and the construction which he himself places upon the anomaly^ 
will be found under the heading " Miscellaneous " in the last chap- 
ter of this volume. Apology may here also be mentioned for the 
apparent repetition therewith associated, but it is considered better 
to hazard the risk of criticism in that direction than that for ambig- 
uity. 

In the next quotation we find some seeming contradictions to 
declarations given above — a fault seldom observed in Shakespeare's 
writings. 

Of a piece with the description of the birth-night of Richard is 
that of the fearful tumult on the night of the murder of Duncan, 
and that of the night before the assassination of Cresar, as wit- 
nessed by Casca. This same distorted cut-throat, Richard, on 
another occasion, whilst imprecating Nature for not bestowing upon 
him fairer fashion, declares he came into this breathing world be- 
fore his time and only half "made-up;" whilst Margaret, the 
widow of the murdered king, tells what she knew of the miserable 
wretch in these words : 

"Thou elvish-marked, abortive, rooting hog! thou that wast 
seal'd in thy nativity the strain of nature, and the scorn of hell! 
thou slander of thy mother's womb! thou loathed issue of thy 
father's loins! " 

It is not probable that his "half make-up" was because of his 
having " come before his time into this breathing world," because 
premature children have imperfectly developed appendages, as the 
nails, etc., and would therefore not be likely to possess teeth, as it 
is asserted that this boy had, at birth ; nor is it likely that the term 
" abortive" used by Margaret had reference to untimely birth, but 
only to lack of physical development. 

The same Richard in an effort to enlist the populace in his favor 
and against his own brother, thus impeaches his mother's virtue: 

(To one of hu adherents. ) "Tell them that when my mother went 
with child of this insatiate Edward, Noble York, mj^ princely father. 



OBSTETRICS. 47 

then had wars in France ; and by true computation of the time, 
found that the issue was not his begot. " 

It could with some plausibility be argued that the physical de- 
formity of Richard was an inheritance from his parentage in the 
manner first discussed — namely, in the form of abnormal germ-life 
as the gift of one or the other of his parents, or of both the father 
and the mother. It is seen in the quotation above that he openly 
declares the lack of virtue in his mother, and it may thus have 
happened that it was some constitutional or sexual malady in her 
that retarded or arrested the development of the "hunch-back" 
while in utero. 

On another occasion, where he wished to marry his own niece to 
assist him in his designs upon the crown, he uses the following argu- 
ment to the girl's mother : 

" If I did take the kingdom from j^our son, to make amends^ 
I'll give it to your daughter ; If I have killed the issue of your 
womb, (he had killed his two young nephews) to quicken your in- 
crease, I will beget mine issue of j^our blood upon j^our daughter. 
A graudam's name is little less in love than is the doting title of a 
mother: They are as children, but one step below, even of your 
mettle, of your very blood ; of all one pain save for a night of 
groans endured of her for whom you did like sorrow. " 

Shakespeare denominated it a " niglit of groans " from the mouth 
of " Dick the Third, " while in the tongue of our Native America it 
is often designated by the laconic term a " grunting. " This is one 
of the popular terms used for labor among the good old country 
women of Missouri, and is about as significant an appellation as any in 
use. This appellation is also applied to labor by Hamlet in his 
somewhat broad conversation with Ophelia as is noted in the last 
paragraph of this chapter. 

To this individual, Richard the Third, we can well applj^ the 
truism, that men's evil manners live in brass, whilst their virtues 
are written in water. 

Henry the Eighth furnishes us a few lines on the subject of pro- 
creation. 

A gentleman of the court in speaking of the manner in which the 
people did reverence to Anne Boleyn (Anne Bullen in the drama J, 
the second wife of Henr}^ at the time of her marriage thus illus- 
trated the matter : (To a friend. J "Believe me, Sir. She is the 



48 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

goodliest woman that ever lay by man ; which when the people had 
the full view of, such a noise arose as the shrouds make at sea in 
a stiff tempest, as loud, and to as many tunes: hats, cloaks, 
(doublets, I think) flew up ; and had their faces been loose this day 
they had been lost, such joy I never saw before. Great-bellied 
women that had not half a week to go, like rams in the old time of 
war, would shake the press, and make them reel before them." 

After this marriage, in due time it is announced, "The queen's in 
labor; they say, in great extremity, and feared she'll with the labor 
end." 

This was a conversation between two courtiers, and was follow'd 
at another place by a talk between the King and an attendant on the 
same subject: 

King. "Now, Lovell, from the queen what is the news? 

Lovell. I could not personally deliver to her what you com- 
manded me, but by her women I sent your message ; who return'd 
her thanks in the greatest humbleness, and desir'd your highness 
most heartily to pray for her. 

Jving. What say'st thou? ha! to pray for her? what! is she cry- 
ing out? 

Lovell. So said her woman ; and that her sufferance made almost 
each pang a death. 

King. Alas, good lady! 

SuffolJc. God safely quit her of her burden, and with gentle 
travail, to the gladding of your highness with an heir ! 

King. 'Tis midnight, Charles ; pr'y thee to bed ; and in thy 
prayers remember my poor queen. Leave me alone, for I must 
think of that which company would not be friendly to. 

S^iffolJc. I wish your highness a quiet night ; and my good mis- 
tress will remember in my prayers," 

The queen's labor progressed in the meantime, and an old lady 
enters the king's apartment in haste. 

Gentleman. (To the old lady.) " Come back ; what mean you? 

Old Lady. I' 11 not come back ; the tidings that 1 bring will make my 
boldness manners. — Now, good angels, fly o'er the royal head, and 
shade thy person under their blessed wings ! 



OBSTETRICS. 



49 




"Now, by thy looks, I guess thy message." 

King. Now, by the looks, I guess thy message ; is the queen 
deliver'd? Say, ay ; and of a boy. 

Old Lady. Ay, ay, my liege ; and of a lovely bo}^: The God of 
heaven now and ever bless her. 'Tis a cjirl, promise boys hereafter. 
Sir, your queen desires your visitation, and to be acquainted with 
the stranger : 'Tis as like you as cherry is to cherry-. 

King. Give her an hundred marks. I'll to the queen. (Exit 
King.) 



50 



SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAX. 




Old Lady. An hundred marks ! By this light, I'll ha' more ; an 
ordinary groom is for such payment: I will have more, or scold it 
out of him. Said I for this the girl was like to him? I will have 
more, or I will unsay 't ; and now, while it is hot, I'll put it to the 

issue. " 

In that portion of the quotation relating to the queen's labor, 
the description is graphic, and as true to nature as had it been 
drawn with the pen of a master in the science of obstetrics. How 
Shakespeare could have become possessed of a knowledge so accu- 
rate in regard to scenes and incidents in the Ijang-in chamber, is a 
problem. His domestic experiences in that particular were hardly 
of an order voluminous enough to have given him so correct an 
idea. It was another of his intuitions. How true to the life also 
are his doings of the old midwife flattering the old king and then 
grumbling over the amount of her fee ! How more than natural for 
the penurious old monarch to award her niggardly pay. Verily, 
humanity presents itself in the same garb among the high and the 
low, the rich and the poor, — among all nations and in all ages. 



OBSTETRIC?. 51 

A " Mark " in English money equaled about thirteen shillings and 
six-pence, which multiplied by one hundred would be considered a 
pretty liberal fee among modern accoucheurs in ordinary practice, 
but perhaps if you my reader, or I, had a ro3^al patron we might 
indulge the thought that an ' ' hundred marks ' ' for a case of obstetrics 
was nothing extra in the way of remuneration ; and the king's action 
in the matter of the fee was in strict keeping with the humanity 
which hovers along the pathway of the physician '' from the college 
to the grave. " 

In Coriolanus we find the good Virgilia declining a pressing in- 
vitation of her mother-in-law Volumnia, who wished her to accompany 
her on a visit to a good lady that " lies in ; " and in " Titus Androni- 
cus, " we have a goodly display of procreative knowledge in the 
details of the relations which existed between Tamora, queen of the 
Goths, and Aaron, her black paramour, whose " soul was black as his 
face." Tamora had been prisoner to Saturninus of Rome, and 
through his gallantry he had married her and placed her in high 
estate. Aaron, her black lover, had been prisoner also, and it seems 
that their familiarity, which existed at the time of their durance^ had 
continued after she became empress of Rome, thus laying the 
foundation for the black-a-moor child which figures in the quota- 
tion. 

Demetrius. "Come, let us go and pray to all the Gods for our 
beloved mother in her pains. 

Aaron. Pray to the devils ; the Gods have given us over. 

Demetrius. AVhy do the emperor's trumpets flourish thus? 

Chiron. Belike, for joy: the emperor hath a son. 

Demetrius. Soft! Who comes there? (Enter a vnrse, ivithablacJc 
child in her arms.) 



52 



SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 




" Look how the black slave smiles upon his father." 
Nurse. Good morrow, lords. O! tell me, did 3^ou see Aaron 

the Moor ? 

Aaron. Well, more, or less, or ne'er a whit at all, here Aaron 
is ; and what with Aaron now ? 

Nurse. O, gentle Aaron, we are all undone! Now, help, or 
woe betide thee ever more ! 

Aaron. Why, what a caterwauling dost thou keep ; what dost 
thou wrap and tumble in thy arms? 

Nurse. O, that wiiich I would hide from heaven's eye, our 
empress' shame, our stately Rome's disgrace. She is deliver'd, 
lords ; she is deliver'd. 

Aaron. To whom? 

Nurse. I mean she's brought to bed. 

Aaron. Well, God give her good rest! What hath he sent her? 

Nurse. A devil. 

Aaron. Why, then, she's the devil's dam ; a joyful issue. 

Nurse. A joyless, dismal, black and sorrowful issue. Here is 
the babe, — as loathsome as a toad amongst the fairest burdens of 
our clime. The empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal, and 
bids thee christen it with thy dagger's point. 

Aaron. Zounds! ye whore, is black so base a hue? — Sweet 
blowse fto the babe), you are a beauteous blossom sure. 

Demetrius. Villain, what hast thou done? 

Aaron. That which thou canst not undo. 



OBSTETRICS. 



53 



Chiron. Thou hast undone our mother. 

Aaron. Villain, I have done thy mother. 

Demetrius. And therein, hellish dog, thou hast undone. 
Woe to her chance, and damn'd her loathed choice! 
Accurs'd the offspring of so foul a fiend ! 

Chiron. It shall not live. 

Aaron. It shall not die. 

Nurse. Aaron, it must: the mother wills it so. 

Aaron. What! must it, nurse? then let no man but I do execu- 
tion on my flesh and blood. 

Demetrius. I'll broach the tadpole on m}' rapier's point. Nurse, 
give it me ; my sword shall soon dispatch it. 

Aaron. Sooner this sword shall plow thy bowels up. {Takes the 
child from the nurse. J Stay, murderous villains! Will you kill 
your brother? Now, l)y the burning tapers of the sky, that shone 
so brightly when this boy was got, he dies upon my scimitar's 
point, that touches this my first-born son and heir. What, what, 
ye sanguine, shallow-hearted boys! Ye white-lim'd walls! ye ale- 
house painted signs! coal-black is better than another hue, for all 
the water in the ocean can never turn the swan's black legs to 
white, although she lave them hourly in the flood. Tell the empress 
from me, I am a man to keep my own ; excuse it how she can. 

Demetrius. Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress thus ? By this 
our noble mother is forever shamed. 

Aaron. (Speaking of the babe.) Look how the black slave 
smiles upon the father ; he is your brother, lords, — of that self 
blood that first gave life to you, and from that womb where you 
imprisoned were, he is enfranchised and come to light : he is your 
brother by the surer side. Not far hence lives Muli, my country- 
man ; his wife was but yesternight brought to bed. His child is 
like to her, fair as you are ; go pack with him, and give the mother 
gold, and tell them both the circumstances of all ; and how by 
this their child shall be advanced and be received for the emperor's 
heir, and substituted in the place of mine to call in this tempest 
whirling in the court, and let the emperor dandle him for his son." 

Cornelia, a midwife, officiated on this occasion also, and according 
to the story of the nurse there were present at the accouchment 
but Cornelia, herself and the empress — the commendable custom 
being then in vogue to not be over-crowded with female assistants 



54 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

as has become somewhat the fashion in our clay ; though the repre- 
hensible practice of employing only women — a midwife, and nurse, 
was then the invariable rule it seems, as Shakespeare no where 
introduces a male accoucheur in any of his obstetric scenes. 

"We look with wonder upon the picture of depravity drawn from 
life at the head of a Roman court, where the empress, fair as 
a lily, in lewd embrace clasped to her bosom a murderous and 
licentious black-man. This was in the far-off past, and yet, 
through the gloom of twenty hundred years, its horrid details are 
sufficient to fill us with loathing. It seems that these high digni- 
taries of earth, whose every walk in life should be an example from 
which the lowly might draw lessons of purity and goodness, are the 
very first to walk the highwaj^s of vice wherein the meanest plebe- 
ian should blush to be seen. Whilst those who lead are blind, we 
need not wonder that the led also stumble. 

We come again to speak of the nubile age, and give more full}^ 
the matter pertaining to the marriage of Juliet and Romeo. We 
find Capulet making plea that his daughter is too 3^oung to marrj'- : 

Capulet. "My child is yet a stranger in the world ; she hath 
not yet seen the change of fourteen years : 

Let two more summers wither in their pride, 
Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride. 

Paris. Younger than she are happy mothers made. 

Capulet. And too soon marr'd are those so early married." 

If all our own authorities are not at fault in observation, this 
remark of Capulet' s in regard to the pernicious effects of earlj^ 
marriage is strikingly exemplified in American women. The cus- 
tom has obtained in this country for persons of both sexes to enter 
the connubial state often at an age when their j^outh should pre- 
clude all thought of such a consummation ; and the result is seen 
in the wan faces and premature decrepitude of a large majority of 
the child-bearing women, even in the rural districts of our countrJ^ 
The earlj' and long continued procreative effort which results in a 
numerous progeny, together with the tc«l and care incident to the 
maintenance of a large famil}- , have become a noticeable fact in 
our domestic life ; and the burdens entailed upon our females as a 
consequence, may justly come in for their share of the censure 
which is now coining into vogue upon those who are endeavoring to 
adopt some plan for tlie limitation of offspring. It is not all to be 



OBSTETKICS. 55 

laid at the door of a desire for fashionable life, etc. — this growing 
desire on the part of our females to limit the number of their 
children ; but it has its origin in burdens too grievous to be quietly 
borne. — Hence the growing sentiment which seeks means, — often 
illegitimate it may be, to rid them of an evil they know not how^ 
else to avoid. 

The custom of early marriage, and the rearing of a numerous 
progeny, as applied specially to the American people, is the result 
of natural conditions. Our country is broad and new, and possessed 
of resources which invite youths to an early dependence upon 
their own energies for an independent life, whilst the spirit of our 
political system, and the often crowded and frugal conditions of the 
parental home, all exercised a marked influence in directing the 
minds of our young men to early marriage. Theory prompts to this 
course in life — a course really the most inviting and acceptable to 
a large portion of American youths, whilst the practical working 
of the system has shown it to be fraught with evils which have not 
been taken into the count — that of an unusual decadence of the 
physical, moral and social life of these young parents, and in 
a measure that of their offspring also. I emphasize the word 
moral, for it is asserted by a majority of our best men and women, 
that in seeking a refuge from the burdens of a large family, our 
females are not only deteriorating physically but also morally, 
in the effort. Mental degeneracy might also be added to the 
catalogue. 

Whilst it is believed that all the evils herein named do exist to a 
greater or less extent among our people, I am far from conceding 
that they exist to an extent sufficient to cause any alarm even among 
that class of maudlin philosophers who make social science a 
specialty ; therefore, I can calmly recommend to those who feel 
seriously upon the subject, to possess their souls in peace, as there 
is little danger at present that the Yankee race will dwindle to 
exhaustion from excesses in the effort of procreation ; or, on the 
other hand, pass from the stage of living nations in an unholy con- 
flict with non-propagation.* We have yet ample elbow-room. 

The practice, yet common among nursing women, of applying 
aloes or some other bitter or nauseous material to the nipple to pre- 
vent the babe from taking it at the time of weaning, finds a prece- 
dent in the case of the nurse who was so closely identified with 
Juliet's existence: 



50 SHAKESPEAKE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

Nurse. " On Lammas-eve shall she be fourteen: that shall she: 
I remember it well. 'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years ; 
and she was wean'd, — I never shall forget it, — of all the year, upon 
that day ; for 1 had then laid wormwood to my dug, setting in the 
sun under the dove-house wall : You and my lord were then at 
Mantua. Nay, I do bear a brain : — but, as I said, when it did taste 
the wormwood on the nipple of my dug, and felt it bitter, prettj'- 
fool, to see it tetchj^, and fall out with the dug! Shake, quoth the 
dove-house ; 'twas no need, I trow, to bid me trudge." 

How true to the life is this picture of a garrulous nurse, and how 
true to the welfare of the human family is the principle herein laid 
down by her, as to the period during which a child should be nursed. 
The data goes to show that Juliet was nearly three years old at time 
of weaning, thus making it apparent that the murderous habit of 
depriving the babe of its natural aliment at an earlier age was not in 
vogue at that date, even among the fashionable and aristocratic. 

The ability to discriminate between the true and the false is no 
where in the writings of the dramatist more forcibly exhibited than 
in the few thoughts attributed to this nurse, and the bearing pos- 
sessed by the nursing period upon the weal or the woe of mankind. 
This can in no way be better here exhibited than in the quotation 
presented below: {Obstetric Gazette, Vol. 1, No. 2; The Mammary 
Gland. By J. P. Chesxey, M. D.) 

"To show the wisdom of a lengthened lactiferous period, it is pro- 
posed to speak speculatively of the female breast, and its relations to 
the well being of the mother and her offspring. 

We shall first notice it in its relations to the child. The milk of 
the human female in its composition fills more nearly the require- 
ments for tissue building than any other substance with which it is 
possible to supply the young child. Its tissues require for their 
development not the substantial elements which give firmness and 
solidity to its structures, but those which impart to them flexibility, 
plasticity and a capacity for expansion and growth. I hold it to be 
a fundamental proposition that no child was ever properly nursed, 
and I may add properly nourished, who clid not draw the pabulum 
for its first two years sustenance from the breast of her who con- 
ceived and brought it into existence. Nature does not afford nor 
can art supply any substitute for this food. Supply the infant with 
the most perfect wet nurse possible, and you will find there is some 
incompatibility between her organization and that of the infant 



OBSTETRICS. 0/ 

of another, — some incornpi'ehensible idiosyncrasy which forever 
prevents a perfect reciprocity between them. She is not its mother. 
It is not her child. 

Children who battle with inanition from lack of the mother's milk, 
are of two classes. Those who starve and those who half starve. 

The first emanate from the abodes of luxury on the one hand and 
from the perlieus of wretchedness on the other ; the one goes into 
the hands of the wet nurse for afew weeks and then to a little gilded 
tomb; the other is "farmed out" and in the same few weeks its 
emaciated little form is put silently away. This occurs in large 
cities where the extremes of society meet face to face. We in the 
country seldom see it. 

With the second of the classes, the half starved, we are somewhat 
more familiar. These children are the offspring of all grades of 
society, and are to be seen in every community. These are the vic- 
tims of early weaning. This class is more numerous than the other, 
and therefore furnishes the man who carries the hour-glass and 
scythe his most abundant harvest. Those who die at the behest of 
fashion and of remorseless poverty, die a little earlier ; the others, 
not quite so soon, but equally as sure, from devotion to " custom." 

Between those mothers who do not nurse at all and those who do 
not nurse enough must be divided the responsibility of our great 
infantile mortality. Half of mankind dies before the second den- 
tition. Let every mother, from the humblest up to the wife of 
the President, nurse her own babe ; her milk is its life. Let the 
practice tally with the theory that what we are we suck from our 
mother's breasts, and we shall regenerate a nation. 

As will appear by the foregoing, it is my firm conviction that our 
teachings and the practice built upon them relative to the proper 
time at which to wean the infant are fundamentally erroneous. The 
commencement of, or a reasonable progress in the first dentition is 
claimed by respectable authors, and agreed to by must mothers and 
nurses as a safe guide in weaning the babe. This takes the babe 
from the breast at ten or twelve months of age. 

The first dentition I certainly think is such a guide, but its lan- 
guage must not be misinterpreted. It does not necessarily follow 
that because an infant in utero has a stomach it must therefore 
receive food, that because it has eyes it must then see. Nor is it 
essential that because a child is born with legs it must be immedi- 
ately placed upon them and made to walk. Infants may have teeth 



58 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN, 

at the age of twelve or fifteen months, but even then they are onh^ 
few and rudimentary, and wholly unfit for organs of mastication. 
The end of twenty-fourth or thirtieth month completes the deciduous 
■dentition, and not an hour before the first of these dates can a child 
be legitimately weaned. 

In reference to the influence exerted by the lacteal functions upon 
the well-being of the mother, we may notice it in its bearings upon 
her morally, mentally and physically. There seems to be little 
doubt but that the peculiar mode of thought which induces a healthy 
mother to abandon to another the sacred duty of nursing her child, 
has its culmination, in many instances, in a loss of interest in her 
family, and a plunge headlong into idleness, extravagance, licen- 
tiousness, shame, disease and death. 

The babe at its mother's breast is the golden chain which binds 
happiness and virtue to the hearth-stone, and the woman who ignores 
its dictates is unfit for wife or mother. She who does not nurse her 
own infant, and she who is constantly in the hands of the abortion- 
ist, are twin sisters, and their works stand side by side as monu- 
ments of depravity. 

It is, however, more within the province of the ph3^sician to view 
the mental and physical ills which befall the woman from a quiescent 
state of the mammary glands. 

When we call to mind the close relations which exist between the 
mammary glands and the reproductive organs proper, — remember 
that it is through the impressibility of the nervous system alone that 
this relation is maintained, we need feel no surprise when we some- 
times find these chains of communication themselves becoming the 
seat of morbid action ; and while any tissue or organ may perchance 
become the focus of disease in this way, yet it is to the brain and 
nervous system where we may look with most certainty of recogniz- 
ing its manifestations. Disturb the harmonious action of reproduc- 
tive life, and neuralgia, hysteria, catalepsy, chorea, epilepsy, and the 
various forms of insanity arise to tax our professional acumen. The 
mammary glands are really annexse of the female generative organs ; 
their sympathies arc therefore so closely interwoven, that a disturb- 
ance of the functions of the one cannot fail to leave an impression 
on the other. It is not my purpose, however, to speak of the path- 
ological conditions of the breast and the disturbances thence reflect- 
ed, but my thought is simply to note the pathological concomitants 
of a forced or voluntary suppression of the lacteal function. And 
first as to the menstrual function. 



OBSTETRICS. 



59 



The two offices are so closely allied that the one may almost per- 
fectly supply to the woman the place of the other. Women whose 
maternal instincts persuade them to let their babes tug at the breast 
eighteen, twenty or twentj-four months — " lets them stand on the 
floor and suck," to use the sajang of a wise friend of m3' own — are 



^ 




<>^' ■ C^. 









% 



•nearly always doing a wise thing unwittingly, both for themselves 
and their offspring. Wise for themselves, because the lengthened 
period of lactation gives to the womb and its proper annexse a peri- 
od of rest indispensable to the proper performance of their func- 
tions. Of the thirt}^ years of procreative life in the human female, 
not more than ten ought to be devoted to fruitful ovulation. 

The life of our women is spent between hemorrhage and gestation ; 
their existence is but a succession of bleedings and pregnancies. 

Woman was fashioned by her autlior to produce and sucMe chil- 
dren. The gestative period is placed almost specifically at nine 
months ; to this add the nursing period, which is placed with almost 
the same precision by nature at two years, and we have a period of near- 
ly three years in which the menstrual function of most women will 
remain passive. This will give eight or ten normal pregnancies during 
the child bearing period, — a number which very closely coincides with 



60 SHAKESPEAKE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

our observations as connected with our mosthealtlij'- and prosperous 
rural families. — Families who do not know the definition of " wet 
nurse," "neuralgia," and "abortion." 

I assume in this paper what I believe to be true, namely, that if 
from the first the mothers nurse their babes the full length of time 
as pointed out by nature as necessarj', they will not be likely to 
menstruate at seven, ten or thirteen months after labor. Work the 
lacteal glands normally and the womb is not forced into premature 
activity. Let every mother whose general health will allow her, 
nurse her babe twenty-two, twenty-four or thirty months, in place 
of the eight, ten or twelve, as is now the custom, and we shall hear 
much less of menorrhagia, leucorrhoea, sub-involution, procidentia 
and the other ten thousand ills to which she is now a prey. 

And so, in like manner, we may often trace a clear connection 
between the uterine congestions consequent upon a repeated ovular 
nisus, and the many inflammatory conditions which beset the womb ; 
I am impressed with the belief that to this cause can be traced most 
of the ulcerations, erosions, endometritis, cellulitis, pelvic abscesses, 
etc., to which our notice is so frequently called. We must give the 
womb and ovaries ample rest if we will have them do their work 
well. 

I use the term "ovulation" to imply the irruption of matured 
"germ cells," meaning of course to exclude all of that vast crop 
which aborts during the periods of lactation and pregnancy. The 
fact is remarked by all medical authorities that it is at the close of 
menstrual life in married women that malignant maladies are most 
likely to assail them ; more particularly their generative sj^stem. 
Cancers of the ovaries, womb and breasts are likely to occur, while 
with matured females who have never given milk at all, the same 
maladies occur earlier, in a greater proportion of such women, and 
are none the less surely and speedily fatal. In this latter class 
particularly is it that a crop of fibroids is likely to be developed to 
the full. The uterus in its effort to do its office of reproduction, — 
never having received and been rendered satisfied by the normal 
stimulation of impregnation, makes a futile attempt to do its nat- 
ural function without assistance, and the effort results in an abor- 
tion — a failure — or what is infinitely worse, the production of a crop 
of parasites, which sap the foundations of life and hurry the woman 
to an earlier grave. 

Without a healthy parentage we cannot hope for a normal con- 



OBSTETRICS. 61 

ception, a healthy gestation or a robust progeny. The early cessa- 
tion of the lacteal function wiietherfroni design or accident I believe 
forms no small factor in the production of abortions. I think we need 
not invoke that very unsatisfactory explanation, the "abortive habit," 
to meet the difficulty. The compensatory balance which should 
exist between the generative and lacteal organs is disturbed by the 
lack of mammary activity ; and, to fufiU a law of the economj^, the 
procreative centers are called into play, " come to the rescue," it 
may be— at a time when they are not recuperated sufficiently, from 
recent gestation, to admit of the nutrition proper for a normal ovum. 
The force is equal to the germination of the seed, but uisuffirAent to 
carry it to maturity". 

As to the effects of lactation upon reproduction it is barely neces- 
sary to speak farther. 

The term " reproduction" cannot properly be confined in its sig- 
nification to the periods of conception, gestation and parturition, but 
it must be made to include the period during which the new being is 
dependent upon the elaborative offices of its mother for its suste- 
nance also. Therefore the work of the whole machinery is necessary 
to a perfect finish. To perfect the act of propagation the mammary 
glands are as essential as the womb and ovaries themselves. Of 
course it should be the desire of every individual, community and 
nation that none but healthy offspring be propagated. To accom- 
plish this successfully the mother must of necessity bring to her aid 
all the resources with which the Creator has endowed her. Her in- 
stincts, lier reason, and her moral training must point out to her the 
most perfect application of these means to the purposes for which 
each was designed. Each of these resources has a hnv which governs 
it with almost specific certainty, and to learn their interpretation and 
act upon them in good faith is the office of the wife and mother." 

Capulet, as already seen, opposed the marriage of his daughter 
whilst yet so young, while on the other hand, her mother argued 
thus : 

" Well, think of marriage now ; younger than you, here in Verona, 
ladies of esteem, are made alread}^ mothers." 

Juliet was not yet fourteen, and if younger than she were made 
already mothers, that would presuppose the menstrual function to 
have been established near upon the twelfth year, — an age much too 
early as appears in the argument put forth in the e'arlier pages of 
this chapter. 



62 SHAKESPEAKE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

In our country, where fourteen is about the period at which a 
majority of our girls take on menstrual life, out of some hundreds 
of obstetric cases, the writer of these lines has attended but one 
patient under the age of fourteen, and she was a girl of more than 
ordinary physical development, and is now, though comparatively 
young, at least ten years in advance of her real age. 

The same talkative nurse, whilst plotting and working in the inter- 
ests of Juliet and Romeo, thus remarks: 

" I am the drudge, and toil in your delight, 
But you shall beare the burden soon at night." 

It is uncertain whether we arc to infer that copulation or parturi- 
tion is meant in this language, but more probably the latter, as com- 
mon observation has taught mankind in general that child-birth is 
more common at night ; — the other, also, perhaps ; but burden would 
come in therewith as a misnomer as applied to the former it is 
thought. 

Capulet, in his anger against Juliet for not wishing to be married 
to Paris, uses the term " green sickness " in his abuse of her. . How 
well Shakespeare kept to his physiology and pathology, will be ob- 
served even here, wiiere he makes bis charge of chlorosis coincide 
exactly with the age and non-menstrual condition of little Juliet ; 
though " beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear," as is also 
declared of her, would hardly have been found coupled with a pale 
chlorotic face. The term " green sickness " is also used in connec- 
tion with Marina, the young girl in Pericles, whose virtue saved 
her, though she was quartered in' a bawdy-house. In "Antony 
and Cleopatra," it is asserted that Lepidus, a companion of Caesar, 
had " green sickness ; " wiiich makes it conclusive that a condition 
analogous to chlorosis in girls was recognized as sometimes afliicting 
males, even at that early date. When Lady Macbeth was informed 
of the purpose of Duncan, King of Scotland, to pass the night at her 
mansion, she, after having given her husband a curtain-lecture as to 
how to " catch the nearest way," thus soliloquis'd : " Come, you 
spirits that tend on mortal's thoughts, unsex me here, and fill me 
from the crown to the toe, top-full of the direst cruelty: make thick 
my blood stop up th' access and passage to remorse ; that no com- 
punctious visitings of nature shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace 
between th' effect and it. Come to my woman's breast, and take 
my milk for gall, you murdering ministers, wherever in your sight- 
less substances you wait on nature's mischief." 



OBSTETRICS. 63 

The milk of a woman in tlie condition of mind in which Lady Mac- 
beth was at the time of this self-communion, would not only often 
prove gall and wormwood to the unfortunate infant that imbibed it, 
but might, mahap, more forcibly represent nicotine, or prussic acid^ 
Failing in that as respects its action on the physical well-being of the 
recipient, it would doubtless prove the pabulum for a mental 
depravity of the darkest and most malignant t3'pe. Most great 
scoundrels suck it from their mothers' breasts. Lady Macbeth 
whilst upbraiding her husband for his reluctance in despatching the 
sleeping king, enforces her arguments thus: " I have given suck, 
and know how tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me : I would,, 
while it was smiling in my face, have pluck' d the nipple from his 
boneless gums, and dash'd the brains out had I so sworn as j'ou 
have done to do this." 

In this quotation we recognize the unexplainable truth that whether 
the young be the offspring of the womb of her that nurses it or not, 
the simple fact of its receiving its sustenance from her blood serves 
to engender a tie between the nurse and her charge more closely 
allied in sympathy, and seemingly approaching a condition of actual 
consanguinity nearer than does any other relations whatever. This 
is not so strange, after all. If the blood of the female moulds and 
forms the being in utero, thus impressing upon it her peculiar 
traits of character and mind, as also its physical contour, — thus 
laying the groundwork of an attachment which none but a mother 
may know, why may not she who afterwards supplies from her own 
body all the material for the development of the new-born dependant 
being which thenceforth becomes " flesh of her flesh " grow in love- 
and interest as with her own — which it in reality is? We don't 
know really but that the nipple is a tie of affection harder to be sun- 
dered than are the ovaries and womb, and with reason for its 
foundation. The first attachment has all that endearment of close 
personal contact and association essential to the generation of our 
tenderest sympathies, aided by the peculiar instinctive quality which 
attaches even the animal creation to that object which is their protege 
and dependant ; whilst the being in utero is, by most, looked upon 
as an inanimate nondescript with few claims for love or sympathy. 

However, give me first the mother who generates and nourishes 
her own child, and I will present you with a mother who has the 
only proper maternal instincts ; — next to her — not she who loves 
the pleasures incident to the generation of her species, and turns 



64 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

the infant over to the wet-nurse, — but her who suckles it, is more 
to my lilving. 

This masculine speech of his wife so impressed Macbeth, that he 
thought she ought to " bring forth men-children only," and to illus- 
trate the general idea that to propagate progeny of sound phj'sical 
and mental qualities it is requisite that the parentage be so also, 
Macbeth avers that if he be a coward, " protest me the baby of a 
girl!" 

The " finger of a birth-strangled babe " was an ingredient in the 
witches curious compound, which is pretty good evidence that the 
crime of infanticide was not a " thing of the future " even in Shakes- 
peare's time. Very much too much is written, and too little done 
in suppressing the practice of the abortionists of our country ; but 
be the crime as heinous as it may, whilst the scoundrels who prac- 
tice it are known, and yet have access as practitioners to the best 
families in the communit}^ how is mere law going to succeed in even 
mitigating it? Public sentiment and its verdict of Guilty can only 
eradicate the evil. 

Writing homilies, however, nor yet publishing books bj' the medi- 
cal profession, nor moralizing, will abridge or curtail very soon the 
tendency to abortion among the people. We may censure profes- 
sional abortionists as much as we may, j^et who shall say that if 
people tvill have it done, it is not better done by one accomplished 
and skilled in its performance than by a novice? 

Wliile the public is pcutice2)s criminis it is useless to anathematize 
their willing instruments. Take away the clients and we shall have no 
shysters. Physician and patient are murderers who go hand in hand. 

The hero of Shakespeare's Ciiesarian section was Macduff, the 
avenger of the death of Duncan. He seemed to possess the iron will 
and fearless bravery which characterized Ciesar himself. AVhether 
or not this undaunted courage and stern character marks all individ- 
uals who are " from their mother's wombs untimely ripp'd," our 
statistics are not sufficiently elaborate to enable us to determine. 

The circumstances under which the CiEsarian section is performed 
seems not to have been taken into account by Shakespeare in regard 
to the birth of Macduff. If the delivery occurred at the hands of a 
professional attendant, then he or she certainly operated too "pre- 
viously," as there are no indications for making the section before 
the termination of the full gestative period — even should there be dis- 
covered or known beforehand the most serious impediments to deliv- 



OBSTETRICS. 65 

ery at term by the usual route. As the valiant warrior was ushered 
"untimely" into the open world it may have been that the "ripping" 
was of an accidental character, or else done by a professional noviti- 
ate, or by one who wished to display his " surgical capacity," regard- 
less of consequences. We knoiv such. 

The next quotation is from " King Lear," and may be seen in its 
full connection in Act i.. Scene 1., in that drama. 

Duke of Kent. "Is not this your son, my lord? (^Referring to 
Edmund the bastard). 

Gloster. His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge: I have so 
often blush'd to acknowledge him, that now I am brazed to it. 

Kent. I cannot conceive you. 

Gloster. Sir, this young fellow's mother could; whereupon she 
grew round-womb'd and had, indeed sir, a son for her cradle ere she 
had a husband for her bed. But I have (also) a son, sir, by order 
of law, some years older than this, who is yet no dearer in my ac- 
count: though this knave came somewhat saucily into the world, 
before he was sent for, yet was his mother fair, there was good sport 
at his making, and the whoreson must be acknowledged ; " and the 
same peculiar old king, in heaping curses upon his ungrateful pro- 
geny — his daughter Goneril, — puts it in this pointed style : 

"Hear, nature hear! dear goddess hear! Suspend thy purpose, 
if thou didst intend to make this creature fruitful ! Into her womb carry 
sterility! Dry up in her, the organs of increase ; and from her dero- 
gate body never spring a babe to honor her! If she must teem, cre- 
ate her child of spleen ; that it may live and be a thwart disnatur'd 
torment to her ! Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth ; with 
cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks ; turn all her mother's pains 
and benefits to laughter and contempt ; that she may feel how sharp- 
er than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child." Lear was 
both mad and insane. Alas, how many are there, whose experience 
is a true but sad commentary upon that of the much abused old 
Lear ; well may parents, and with good and sufficient reasons may 
the toil-worn physician above all others exclaim, "Ingratitude! 
thou marble-hearted fiend!" 

In " Pericles," the genii thus sings: 

" Brief, he must hence depart to Tyre: 
His queen, with child, makes her desire 
(Which who shall cross?) along to go. 



66 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

Omit we all their dole and woe : 
Lychorida, her nurse, she takes, 
And so to sea. Their vessel shakes 
On Neptune's billow ; half the flood 
Hath their keel cut ; but fortune's mood 
Varies again : the grizzly North 
Disgorges such a tempest forth 
That, as a duck for life that dives, 
So up and down the poor ship drives ; 
The lady shrieks, and well-a-near 
' Does fall in travail with her fear." ' 

This it appears was a prophecy, of which the following was the 
sequence : — 

Pericles {on shipboard). "Thou God of this great vast, rebuke 
these surges, which wash both heaven and hell ; and thou, that hast 
upon the winds command, bind tkem in brass, having call'd them 
from the deep. O ! still thy deafening, dreadful thunders ; duly 
quench thy nimble, sulphurous flashes! — O! how, Lychorida, how 
does my queen? The seaman's whistle is a whisper in the ears of 
death, unheard. — Lychorida! — Lucina, O! Divinest patroness 
and midwife, gentle to those that cry by night, convey thy deity 
aboard our dancing boat; make swift the pangs of my queen's tra- 
vails! — Now, Lychorida. — {Enter the midwife with an infant.) 

Lychorida. Here is a thing too young for such a place, who, if it 
had conceit, would die, as I am like to do. Take in your arms this 
piece of your dead queen. 

Pericles. How, how, Lychorida! 

Lychorida. Patience, good sir ; do not assist the storm. Here's 
all that is left living of your queen, a little daughter: for the sake 
of it, be manly, and take comfort. 

Pericles {to the babe). Now, mild may be thy life ; quiet and 
gentle thy condition ; for thou art the rudeliest welcom'd to this 
world that e'er was prince's child. 

Sailor {to Pericles). Sir, your queen must over-board ; the sea 
works high, the wind is loud, and will not lie until the ship be 
cleared of the dead. 

Pericles. That's your superstition. 

Sailor. Pardon us, sir ; briefly yield her, for she must over-board 
straight. 



OBSTETRICS. 67 

Pericles. As you think meet. — Most wretched queen ! A terrible 
chilcl-bed hast thou had, my dear ; no light, no fire: the unfriendly 
elements forgot thee utterly ; nor have I time to give thee hallow'd 
to thy grave, but straight must cast thee, scarcely coffin'd, in the 
ooze." 

They throw her overboard, and being close upon land, her body 
is cast ashore where it is found, and the following colloquy occurs 
between the finders and the persons to whom they give the body in 
charge : 

" How fresh she looks ; they were too rough that threw her into 
the sea. Make fire within : fetch hither all the boxes in my closet. 

Death may usurp on nature many hours, and yet the fire of life 
kindle again the overpressed spirits. I heard of an Egyptian once, 
that had nine hours lain dead, who was by good appliance recovered. 

(^Enter servant tvith boxes, napMns and Jire). Well said, well said ; 
the fire and the clothes ; — the vial once more ; — I pray you, give 
her air ! 

Gentlemen, the queen will live: nature awakes a warm breath out 
of her: she hath not been entranc'd above five hours. See how she 
'gins to blow into life's flower again! 

Gentleman. The heavens through you increase our wonder, and 
set up your fame forever. (It is to be presumed that this fellow 
turned doctor at once, and went forth ' healing and to heal,' preceded 
by flaming hand-bills setting forth that he made resuscitation a spe- 
cialty ; at least, any boot- black or hostler who might now chance to 
be thus eulogized, would straightway arm himself with certificates 
from the queen and the credulous gentlemen who surrounded her, 
and would ' swing his shingle' in one of the largest hotels or the 
most populous street in one of the best cities.) 

Cerimon {a lord). She is alive! behold her eye-lids, cases to 
those heavenly jewels which Pericles hath lost, begin to part their 
fringes of bright gold : the diamonds of a most praised water do 
appear to make the world twice rich. Live, and make us weep to 
hear your fate, fair creature, rare as you seem to be! (T/ie queen 
moves. ) 

Queen. O dear Diana! where am I? Where's my lord? What 
world is this? 

2d Gentleman. Is not this strange? 

1st Gentleman. Most rare. 



68 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

Cerimon. Hush, gentle neighbor ! Lend me your hands ; to the 
next chamber bear her. Get linen : Now this matter must be looked 
to, for her relapse is mortal. Come, come ; and JEsculapius guide 
us." 

It is not at all impossible or improbable, that the actions of a 
ship in a severe storm, or even in ordinary weather, would have 
produced premature labor in a female who had gone to sea for the 
first time ; the sea-sickness alone would, in man}^, be sufficient to 
set up uterine action ; and there is nothing improbable in the story 
of her having fallen into eclampsia immediately after delivery, as 
her perturbed nervous system would have favored such an accident, 
hence the term "trance" as used by the dramatist. There is 
nothing inconsistent with the assertion that she had been " en- 
tranced" not more than "five hours" and her recovery occur 
afterwards, as we know that puerperal convulsions may leave the 
patient unconscious manj^ hours, and yet the patient recover ; and 
if Shakespeare had let the term " scarcely cofiin'd " have remained 
as her only burial appurtenances, we might have supposed that 
even the casting her overboard into the water had been a means of 
aiding in her recovery ; but he unfortunately spoils this hypothesis 
and renders his whole story untenable by fabricating the box 
farther on so " closely caulk'd and bitumed." Even a leaky chest 
would have served the purpose better, had he kept his story in the 
region of possibility, for his " close " box draws him into an error 
that is yet common among the community, and upon which many 
marvelous newspaper horrors are manufactured, — namely, that 
persons are sometimes found turned in their coffins, thus showing 
that they have revived after having been fastened in their coffins. 
These stories are all "stuff" at best, and particularly would it 
have been so in the case of the queen, as the casket was water- 
tight, therefore could under no circumstances have admitted air suf- 
ficient to supply the requirements of vitality. When the respiratory 
function has been completely suspended five minutes in the adult, 
it is seldom that they are ever "blown into life's flower" again 
even under the most scientific management. In the case of new- 
born infants, however, the case is quite different, as they may re- 
main not only many miuutes, but I fully believe an hour — two 
hours ! without respiring, and then, sometimes, be resuscitated bj^ 
proper management. The vital powers of these fresh infants is 
something wonderful, and I am fully persuaded that many, very 



"^ OBSTETRICS. 69 

many, of them die who might be saved if the accoucheur would 
only make persistent efforts in the right direction. I simply inflate 
the lungs in these cases by applying my own lips closely to those of 
the infant, at the same time closing its nostrils with thumb and in- 
dex finger, and forcibly but steadily forcing my expired breath deep 
into its lungs ; I then turn the babe from side to side and compress 
the chest with my hands. The process is repeated — repeated — 
repeated — and often under the most unfavorable circumstances the 
labor is rewarded by the raising a live child instead of the burying 
of a dead one. 

The Egyptian story is all a hoax ; he may have been drunk for 
nine hours and then have recovered, but never dead. Marina, to 
whom the queen gave birth on the ship, after she was a grown 
woman fully believed that her mother died the moment she gave 
her birth ; and Pericles himself also declared " at sea, in child-bed 
died she." As an evidence of his own virility, and that of Ophelia 
also, Hamlet speaks thus confidently: "To take off my edge would 
cost you a grunting." 



CHAPTER II. 



PSYCHOLOGY. 



Definition — Shakespeare's profound knowledge of the subject — Bucknill's 
eulogium — "It is all the besf — Shakespeare's special study of insanity an 
absurdity — His intuition — Scene before an Abbey — Jealousy versus sanit}- — A 
foul conspiracy — A psychological charlatan — Sleeplessness but a symptom — 
Shakespeare draws on his own domestic experience— JV^oto not a joke, but a 
dark reality — Thrown into a "danki,sh" vault — The cell of Foscari — Public 
institutions need surveillance — Preliminary abuses — Probate courts and 
examinations in lunacy — Monkey and medical expert — A ten-dollar fee — 
Charles Eeade — "Why hast thou put him in such a dream?" — No darkness 
but ignorance — Make the trial of it in any constant question— Erroneous 
assumption — Bucknill on memory — What at any time have you heard her 
say? — "Out damned spot"— Here's the smell of blood still — Will she go now 
to bed? — Cure her of that — "Make thick my blood stop up the access and 
passage to remorse" — Cases from De Boismont — "He had a large knife in his 
hand and went straight to my bed" — He returned as he came — "I had so strange 
a dream" — His services were thereafter dispensed with — Somnambulism and 
insanity — The pulse as indicative of insanity — Did you nothing hear? — Hallu- 
cinations — The ghost — The spectre cat — The doctor's fright — Look! Amaze- 
ment on thy mother sits — Lesions of structure necessary to lesions of func- 
tion — I'm a'gwine to die!— One finale awaits the man and all his attributes — 
Love and sleeplessness — Age — "No man bears sorrow better" — The final 
cataclysm — King Lear not insane — A dog's obeyed in office — The "Bed- 
lam beggar" — "How does the king?" — "You are a spirit, I know" — Lord 
Shaftesbury's opinion — The Emotions — Their close relationship to actual 
mental diseases — Jealousy — With "pin and web" — Othello, the Moor — "O! 
now farewell the tranquil mind" — Alas the day ! I never gave him cause— The 
ills we do their ill instruct as to — Ninety children the utmost limit — The rela- 
tive procreative capacity of the sexes — Monogamistic relations — Abortion 
and polygamy — Love — All lovers swear more performance than they are able — 
Love-marks — "Did you ever cure any so?" — The pale complexion of true love 
— "He took me by the wrist and held me hard" — Mine eyes were not at fault, 
for she was beautiful — Lust — Not from Shakespeare — One man in every five — 
Love powders— My daughter! O my daughter! — Lucretius, the poet — A veri- 
table letter — Venereal excitement not love — Let not the creaking of shoes — 
The will and conception — "Could I find out the woman's part in me" — Pain- 
ful copulation (Dyspareunia)— Anger — Envy. 

In the broadest acceptation of the term, Psychology means the 
science of the intellectual and moral faculties. More recently, how- 
ever, the term has been so freely used to denote aberrant phenomena 

70 



PSTCHOLOGT. 71 

in connection with mental conditions, that its definition can now 
hardly be connected with healthy intellectual operations, or at least, 
it cannot be thus restricted in its significance. 

I find, in looking over the material collected for this chapter, that 
to arrange it in an appropriate form is no inconsiderable task. In 
the first place, we have entire dramas in which the most salient feat- 
ure of the plot and the pith of the whole play hinges upon the char- 
acter of an insane actor ; while in others the insanity is only counter- 
feited by the individual himself, or assumed to be so for him. Of 
the former kind we find most prominent Hamlet, King Lear, Timon 
of Athens, etc., while of the other a very good illustration is seen in 
the " Comedy of Errors." Other references to " thick coming fan- 
cies," which are so near akin to mental alienations that it is hard to- 
distinguish the line of separation between the sane and the insane, 
are very numerous, and will all be found referred to in the chapter. 
Shakespeare has written most learnedly upon this subject. More 
profoundly it is thought, by good judges, than perhaps upon any- 
thing else connected with medicine. So thoroughly and skillfully 
has he portrayed the various phases of insanity, that Bucknill, a 
very high English authority upon the subject, says: 

" Shakespeare not only possesses more psychological insight than 
all other poets, but more than all other writers." The extent and 
exactness of the psychological knowledge displayed (in his writings) 
has surprised and astonished him, and he can only account for it on 
one supposition, namely, that "abnormal conditions of the mind had 
attracted Shakespeare's diligent observation, and had been a favorite 
study. This would seem to be evident from the mere number of 
characters to which he has attributed insanity, and the extent alone 
to which he has written upon the subject." 

Anyone, however, who studies Shakespeare's writings will be likely 
to think he has written the best on the last portion he has read ; and 
at the conclusion of the reading of the entire work, he is ready to 
aver that it is all the best ! I suppose that that was the state of men- 
tal admiration which actuated Dr. Bucknill when he penned the lines 
just quoted. He was a specialist, and could see more of the powers 
of the great dramatist as connected with his own department of 
science than with that of any other. We will make allowance for his 
strong language accordingly. That he should presume, however, 
that Shakespeare had given special study to aberrant mental phe- 
nomena in anything like a scientific way is rendered utterly ab- 



72 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN, 

surd even by data furnished from his own pen. He tells us that 
there was but one small and poorly ordered insane charity then in 
all England ; though he makes excuse that there were plenty of 
roving mad people, and those who lived in the family circle, with 
whom Shakespeare might have fallen in contact and thus have 
acquired his wonderful fund of knowledge from actual observation. 
If we are to grant the truth of this supposition in regard to his 
knowledge of insanity, then we will be called upon to admit as 
much in regard to all other subjects upon which he has written. 
Such an admission is wholly inadmissible — more particularly without 
better grounds for facilities of studying his various themes can be 
shown to have existed than is presented in connection with his study 
of this. The theory therefore still remains, that Shakespeare 
learned few things : he kneiv them Intuitively. 

We will then come directly to our subject. Psychology, or mental 
perturbations, as found in the " Comedy of Errors," Act v., 
Scene i., where the following conversation occurs in front of an 
Abbey : 

Abbess. " Be quiet, people. "Wherefore throng you hither? 

Adriana. To fetch my poor distracted husband hence. Let us 
come in, that we may bind him fast, and bear him home for his recov- 
ery. 

Angela. I knew he was not in his right mind. 

Abbess. How long hath this passion held the man? 

Adriana. This week he hath been heavy, sour, sad ; and much 
different from the man he was : but till this afternoon, his passion 
ne'er broke into extremity of rage. 

Abbess. Hath he not lost much wealth by wreck of sea? buried 
some dear friend? hath not else his eye stray'd his affection in un- 
lawful love? — a sin prevailing much in youthful men who give their 
eyes the liberty of gazing. Which of these sorrows is he subject to? 

Adriana. To none of these, except it be the last ; namely, some 
love that drew him oft from home. 

Abbess. You should for that have reprehended him. 

Adriana. Why, so I did. 

Abbess. Ay, but not rough enough. 

Adriana. As roughly as my modesty would let me. 

Abbess. Haply, in private. 

Adriana. And in assemblies too. 

Abbess. Ay, but not enough. 



PSYCHOLOGY. 78 

Adriana. It was the copy of our conference ; in bed he slept not, 
for my urging it; at board he fed not, for my urging it; alone, it 
was the subject of my theme; in company, I often glanc'd at it ; 
still did I tell him it was vile and bad. 

Abbess. And thereof come it that the man was mad : the venom 
clamors of a jealous woman poison more deadly than a mad dog's 
tooth. It seems his sleep was hind'red by thy railing, and thereof 
comes it that his head is light. Thou say'st his meat was sauc'd 
with thy upbraidings : unquiet meals make ill digestions; thereof 
the raging fire of fever bred: and what's a fever but a fit of mad- 
ness? Thou say'st, his sports were hind'red by thy brawls: sweet 
recreation barr'd, what doth ensue, but moody and dull melancholy, 
kinsman to grim and comfortless despair, and at her heels a huge 
infectious troop of pale distemperatures and foes to life ? 

In food, in sport, and life preserving rest, . 
To be disturb' d, would mad or man or beast." 

"His sleep was hind'red by thy railings, and thereof comes it 
that his head is light." This is uspd synonymously with " crazy " 
or " distracted," and in idea coincides very closely with popular 
professional notions of to-day — namely, that loss of sleep is a very 
prolific source of insanity, when the fact is the actual pathological 
condition upon which the morbid mental manifestations depend 
have precedence, perhaps always, to the morbid vigilance — the 
sleeplessness being but a symptom. 

"Unquiet meals make ill digestions; thereof the raging fire of 
fever bred: and what's a fever but a fit of madness?" 

The dramatist doubtless used less precaution in regard to ac- 
curacy of idea in this farcical delineation than he would have 
done had the whole matter not have been one of jest. That the 
first clause of the paragraph is true to the letter can be verified by 
the almost daily experience of almost anybody. There may be, 
perhaps, a remote smattering of fact in the second proposition, 
while in the last there is no logic at all — an assertion that cannot be 
truthfully said often of Shakespeare. 

"Thou say'st his sports were hind'red by thy brawls; sweet 
recreation barr'd, what doth ensue, but moody and dull melancholy, 
kinsman to grim and eomfortless despair, and at her heels a huge 
infectious troop of pale distemperatures and foes to life?" 



74 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

This quotation shows us that its author appreciated the situation 
to repletion, and perhaps had learned this from his own somewhat 
strange domestic situation ; but while it would do very well to 
denominate the restraints as irksome, the condition could not be 
thought a particular " foe to life." If long endured, " moody and 
dull melancholy," and even actual "grim and comfortless despair," 
would doubtless beset the victim ; but such an extreme instance as is 
pictured in the text is, it is presumed, beyond the confines of actual 
experience, and belongs only to the realms of fiction. 

But in the case under consideration the individual was not mad 
at all, as appears from his own story, — a story, by the way, the 
counterpart of many which happen daily even in this enlightened 
country, — the counterpart of many such cases in every feature, save 
one — the motive — which is not usually a joke, but a deep, shame- 
less, damnable, murderous conspiracy to do to some one a dark and 
murderous wrong. But hear what the much abused husband has 
to say : 

"My wife, her sister, and a rabble more of vile confederates . 
along with them they brought one Pinch, a hungry, lean-fac'd vil- 
lain, a mere anatomy, a montebank, a thread-bare juggler, and a 
fortune-teller, a needy, hollow-eyed, sharp-looking wretch, a living 
dead man. This pernicious slave, forsooth, took on him as a con- 
jurer, and gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse, and with no face 
as't were, out facing me, cried out I was possess'd. Then, alto- 
gether, they fell upon me, bound me, bore me thence, and in a dark 
and dankish vault at home they left me and my man, both bound 
together ; till, gnawing with my teeth, my bonds in sunder, I gained 
my freedom and immediately ran hither to your grace, whom I be- 
seech to give me ample satisfaction, for these deep shames, and 
great indignities." 

From the known integrity of the managers of some of our 
" Private Insane Hospitals," it is presumed that they are con- 
ducted on a plan of the first character as to their qualities as a 
home, and in the advantages they offer as to skilled treatment of 
their patrons ; but that abuses hover about some of them of an order 
illustrated by the above case, we do not hesitate to believe. 
"Dankish vaults" conceal within them scenes of horror and tales 
of woe only equalled by that of the cell of Fascari, " which never 
echo'd but to sorrow's sounds, the sigh of long imprisonment, the 



PSYCHOLOGY. 75 

step of feet on which the iron clank' d, the groan of death, the 
imprecation of despair!" Glimpses of this life of forced imprison- 
ment in so-called "Inebriate Homes," and like institutions, occa- 
sionally leak out through the public prints and by other means — 
tales of horror which make us shudder at their bare recital — many 
of which are false in toto no doubt, while many of them are, it is 
to be feared, but too true. These grave apprehensions do not 
alone apply to "Private Retreats," etc., but our public institu- 
tions need the surveillance of close inspection as well. Ordinary 
individuals can do nothing towards correcting abuses in high places. 
To one invested with less authority than had Governor Butler 
when conducting his Tewkesbury investigations, or possessed of 
less pertinacity and will-force, it would be but folly to even in- 
sinuate that there is a probability of something wrong in the man- 
agement of any of these institutions, either private or public. It 
is not however exclusively to the abuses of persons inside of hos- 
pitals that we may refer. Abuses occur which are done in broad 
daylight, and are open to the inspection of any one who will take 
the time to look. I have in mind the proceedings preliminary to 
placing a person in an insane asylum. Who ever heard of one 
accused of being insane, that, when carried before a court of en- 
quiry, come off cleared — that is, to be adjudged sane ? I have 
never been made cognizant of such an occurrence. There are 
abundant reasons for this. In the first place there are personal 
favorites of the court officers among the medical men — medical 
men who dabble in politics, who are by some means (collusory ones 
commonly) apprised of the fact that an examination in lunacy is 
to be made, and that their particular erudition is required in the 
premises. These professional gentlemen are the counterpart of 
the good citizens who make themselves conveniently near so as 
to receive a summons to sit on all the juries. Many of these 



76 



SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 




A Victim of the "Certificate" Process. 

professional insane examiners are possessed of little more real 
knowledge of the cases they are called to investigate and to 
certify to than the monkey — in fact, differ little from the veritable 
ape, except in the repudiation of the punchinello cap and the sub- 
stitution therefor of the plug hat. The fee of ten dollars allowed 
for the services of the brace of experts is sufficient to procure an 
affirmative certificate which will incarcerate a person, sane or in- 
sane, in a limitless imprisonment. Read the work of Charles 
Reade, entitled "A Terrible Temptation," for a pretty fair pict- 
ure of this subject. The "lean, hungry, villainous" sort of hu- 
manity in physicians' garb are the ones, even in our day, who go 
about to " Conjure^ and gaze in people's eyes, feeling their pulse, 
and crying out 'you are possess'd.' " What show then for justice 
has either man or woman who may be singled out by the designing 
and crafty with a view to imprisonment under this guise? 

In " A Midsummer Night's Dream," A. iii., S, ii., we find the 
fo lowing: lines : 



"All fancy-sick she is, and pale of cheer. 
With sighs of love, that cost the fresh blood dear." 



PSYCHOLOGY. 77 

Truly, disquietude of mind from any cause will tax the " fresh 
blood" equal to the severest physical labor; and of the two, mus- 
cular exertion is much less destructive of the vital forces. Ctesar's 
picture of Cassius illustrates this proposition. "Lunatic" is 
spoken of in "Taming the Shrew," and also in A. ii., S. v., in 
"Twelfth Night:" 

Sir Toby Belch. " Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, 
that when the image of it leaves him he must run mad. 
Maria. Nay, but say true ; does it work upon him ? 
Sir Toby. Like aqua-vitse with a midwife." 

This dialogue had reference to the trick which the fun-loving 
maid played at the expense of that self-sufficient gentleman, Mal- 
volio, who had a great wish to make favor with the affections of his 
mistress with a view to ultimate marriage. He really loved her, 
and the jovial Sir Toby compares its hopelessness to a dream, and 
true to human nature suggests the possibility of his going mad 
when he is fully undeceived. This was not likely to happen in the 
case of Malvolio, who, no doubt whilst he loved, also had more or 
less mercenation coupled with his other motives — a sentiment which 
would have saved him. 

The good lady, Olivia, the subject of poor Malvolio's "flame," 
was herself " addicted to a melancholy," if we may believe the 
laughing Maria ; though she was after cured by marriage. The 
saucy maid and bacchanalian "Sir Toby" were not content to 
make the poor steward a victim to the cultivation of a delusive 
hope, but heartlessly carried the joke to the point of declaring that 
he was "tainted in his wits ; come, we'll have him in a dark room 
and bound," which they did, as the after conversation will explain : 
(Here a clown enters his prison in the guise of a curate.) — A. iv., S. ii. 

Malvolio. " "Who calls there? 

Clown. Sir Topas, the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio, the 
lunatic. 

Malvolio. Sir Topas, Sir Topas ; good Sir Topas, go to my lady. 

Clown. Out, hyperbolical fiend! how vexest thou this man. 
Talkest thou of nothing but ladies ? 
■ Sir Toby Belch. Well said. Master Parson. 

Malvolio. Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged. — Good Sir 
Topas, don't think I am mad : they have laid me here, in hideous 
darkness. 



78 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN, 

Cloivn. Fie! thou dishonest sathan! I call thee by the most 
modest terms ; for I am one of those gentle ones that will use the 
devil himself with courtesy. Say'st thou that house is dark? 

Malvolio. As hell, Sir Topas. 

Clown. It hath bay windows transparent as barricadoes, and the 
clear stories toward the south north are lustrous as ebony ; and 
yet complainest thou of obstruction? 

Malvolio. I am not mad, Sir Topas ; I say to you this house is 
dark. 

Glotvn. Mad man, thou errest : I say there is no darkness but 
ignorance, in which thou art more puzzled than the Egyptians in 
their fog. 

Malvolio. I say, that this house is dark as ignorance, though 
ignorance was as dark as hell ; and I say, there was never man 
thus abused. I am no more mad than you are ; make the trial of it 
in any constant question. 

Cloion. What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning water- 
fowl? 

Malvolio. That the soul of one generation might haply inhabit 
a bird. 

Clown. What think thou of his opinion? 

Malvolio. I think nobly of the soul, and no way approve his 
opinion. 

Clown. Fare thee well ; remain thee still in darkness. Thou 
shalt hold the opinion of Pythagoras, or I will allow of thy wits, 
and fear to kill a wood-chuck, lest thou dispossess the soul of thy 
gran-dam ; fare thee well." 

In the position assumed by Shakespeare when he undertakes to 
establish the fact of the sanity of an individual by the connected 
manner in which he can answer a line of questions, we see but the 
expression of popular opinion. Nothing could be more fallacious 
than such an idea. Alienists tell us that in " making trial of it," 
" in any constant question," might serve to disclose aberrations of 
the mind in those who are afflicted with any form of acute mania, 
but it would not hold good in numberless instances in chronic mania, 
nor in melancholia, or partial insanity. Indeed, says Bucknill, 
" the possessor of the most brilliant memory we ever met with was 
a violent and mischievous maniac. He would quote page after page 
from the French, Latin and Greek classics, and the Iliad and the 
best plays of Moliere in particular he seemed to have at his finger's 
ends." 



PSYCHOLOGY. 79 

The following graphic description is found in "Macbeth," A. v., 
S. 1.: 

Doctor. " -I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive 
no truth in your report. When was it she last walked? 

Gentleman. Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen her 
rise from her bed, throw her nightgown upon her, unlock her closet, 
take forth paper, fold it, write upon it, read it, afterwards seal it, 
and again return to bed ; yet all this while in a most fast sleep. 

Doctor. A great perturbation in nature, to receive at once the 
benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching. In this slumbering 
agitation, besides her walking and other actual performances, what 
at any time have you heard her say } 

Gentleman. That, sir, which I will not repeat after her. 

Doctor. You may, to me ; an'ts most meet you should. 

Gentleman. Neither to you, nor to any one, having no witness to 
confirm my speech. 

(^Enter Lady Macbeth loitli a light.) 

Look you ! here she comes. This is her very guise, and upon my 
life fast asleep. Observe her: stand close. 

Doctor. How came she by that light? 

Gentleman. Why, it stood by her ; 'tis her command. 

Doctor. You see her eyes are open. 

Gentleman. Ay, but their sense is shut. 

Doctor. What is it she does now? Look, bow she rubs her hands. 

Gentleman. It is an accustomed action with her to seem thus 
washing her hands ; I have known her continue in this a quarter of 
an hour. 

Lady Macbeth. Yet here's a spot. 

Doctor. Hark ! She speaks. I will set down what comes from 
her, to satisfy my memory the more strongly. 

Lady Macbeth. Out, damned spot! Out, I say. — One, two; 
why, then, 'tis time to do it. — Hell is murky! — Fie, my lord, fie! a 
soldier and afraid? What need we fear who knows it, when none 
can call our power to account? Yet who would have thought the 
old man to have had so much blood in him? 

Doctor. Do you mark that? 

Lady Macbeth. The thane of Fife had a wife : where is she now ? 
What, will these hands ne'er be clean? — No more o' that, my lord; 
no more o' that ; you mar all with this starting. 



80 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

Doctor. Go to, go to ; you have known what you should not. 

Gentleman. She has spoken what she should not, I am sure of 
that ; Heaven knows what she has known. 

Lady Macbeth. Here's the smell of the blood still ; all the per- 
fumes of Arabia will not sweet these little hands. Oh! Oh! Oh! 

Doctor. What a sight is there ! The heart is sorely charged. 

Gentleman. I would not have such a heart in my bosom, for the 
dignity of the whole body. 

Doctor. Well, well, well. — 

Gentleman. Pray God it be, sir. 

Doctor. This disease is beyond my practice ; yet I have known 
those who have walked in their sleep, who have died holily in their 
beds. 

Lady Macbeth. Wash your hands ; put on your night-gown ; 
look not so pale. — I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried ; he cannot 
come out on's grave. 

Doctor. Even so? 

Lady Macbeth. To bed, to bed; there's knocking at the gate. 
Come, come, come, come, give me your hand. What's done, can- 
not be undone : to bed, to bed, to bed. 

Doctor. Will she go now to bed? 

Gentleman. Directly. 

Doctor. Foul whisperings are abroad. Unnatural deeds do 
breed unnatural troubles ; infected minds will to their deaf pillows 
discharge their secrets. More needs she the divine than the physi- 
cian. Look after her ; remove from her the means of all annoyance, 
and still keep eyes upon her." 

Farther on in the same tragedy : — 

Macbeth. " How does your patient, doctor? 

Doctor. Not so sick, my lord, as she is troubled with thick-com- 
ing fancies, that keep her from her rest. 

Macbeth. Cure her of that. Canst thou not minister to a mind 
diseas'd, pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, raze out the 
written troubles of the brain, and with some sweet oblivious anti- 
dote cleanse the stuff' d bosom of that perilous grief which weighs 
upon the heart? 

Doctor. Therein the patient must minister unto himself. 

Macbeth. Throw physic to the dogs ; I'll none of it. Doctor, if 
thou could' st find her disease, and purge it to a sound and pristine 



PSYCHOLOGY. 81 

health, I would applaud thee to the very echo, that should applaud 
again." 

Now, in the analysis of the above quoted matter we find that the 
good doctor who attended Lady Macbeth did not deem her really 
sick ; but in this he was no doubt mistaken. In the first place, she 
had been the subject of sleep-walking before the occurrence of the 
murder of Duncan, and the excitement incident to that occasion 
had no doubt aggravated the tendency into actual insanity, as the 
doctor says her " thick-coming fancies keep her from her rest," a 
symptom always present in acute mania. I say that she had been 
somnambulistic before the murder, from the fact that neither remorse, 
grief, or indeed any emotional perturbation, is suflftcient to start 
suddenly into existence this form of mental aberration, That when 
it exists it is of slow and gradual growth — but liable to be excited 
into active insanitj^ by any circumstances which force a strain upon 
the mind. Were I called upon to investigate a case analogous to 
that described as connected with the murder of the sleeping Dun- 
can, and knowing all the facts as therein detailed, I should have no 
hesitation in expressing the opinion that Lady Macbeth with her 
own hand committed the deed in her sleep. We have proof that 
Macbeth was first urged to the commission of the deed by the wife, 
whose heart was set upon rising to fame and power ; she herself 
says "he is too full of the milk of human kindness to catch the 
nearest way," Her waking contemplations in regard to the con- 
summation of her wishes could easily have stimulated her sleep- 
walking propensities into the certain performance of the very act, 
herself. Lady Macbeth had it in her heart to do the murder with 
her own hand if need be, as the following will show : 

" (Enter an attendant.) 

Lady M. What is your tidings ? 

Attendayit. The king comes here to-night. 

Lady M. Thou'rt mad to say it. Is not thy ma*ster with him? 
who, were't so, would have inform'd for preparation. 

Attendant. So please you, it is true ; our thane is coming. One 
of my fellows had the speed of him ; who, almost dead for breath, 
had scarcely more than would make up his message. 

Lady M. Give him tending ; he brings great news. (Ex. 
attendant.) The raven himself is hoarse, that croaks the fatal 
entrance of Duncan under my battlements. Come, you spirits 



82 



SHAKESPEAKE AS A PHYSICIAN. 



that tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, and fill me, from the 
crown to the toe, top-full of direst cruelty ; make thick my blood 
stop up th' access and passage to remorse ; that no compunctious 
visitings of nature shake m}^ fell purpose, nor keep peace between 
th' effect and it. Come to my woman's breasts, and take my milk 
for gall, you murdering ministers, wherever in your sightless sub- 




stances you wait on nature's mischief. Come, thick night, and pall 
thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, that my keen knife see not the 
wound it makes, nor heaven peep through the blankness of the 
dark to cry, "Hold, hold! " 

Of this kind of cases we find ample records. I will quote from 
Deboismont: " Dom. Duhaget was of a good family in Gascony ; 
he had been a captain in the infantry for twenty years ; I never 
knew any one possessing any more amiability or piety. We had," 

he related, " a friar kt , where I was before I came to Pierre 

Chatel, of a melancholy disposition and a gloomy character, who 
was known to be a somnambulist. Sometimes, during the parox- 
ysms, he would leave his cell, and re-enter it alone ; at others, he 
would lose himself, and have to be brought back. 



PSYCHOLOGY. 83 

His case bad been treated, and as the returns were very rare, it 
had ceased to attract attention. One night, I was sitting up beyond 
my usual hour for retiring. I was engaged in looking over some 
papers in my desk, when I heard the door open, aud saw the friar 
enter, in a complete state of somnambulism. His eyes were open, 
but fixed (How truthfully Shakespeare notes this fact in the case 
of Lad}' M. ) ; he had on only the garments in which he slept, and 
held a large knife in his hand. He went straight to my bed ; 
appeared to satisfy himself by feeling, that 1 was really there ; 
after which he struck three heavy blows so powerfully', that the 
blade, after piercing the clothes, entered deep into the mattress, or 
rather the mat, which I used in its stead. When he first entered, 
his brow was frowning and the muscles of his face contracted. 
Having struck, he turned round, and I observed that instead of the 
frowning and distorted features, his countenance was overspread 
with an air of great satisfaction. The light from two lamps that 
were on my desk had no effect on his eyes ; he returned as he came, 
opening and shutting quietly the two doors that led to my cell. 

The next day, I summoned the somnambulist, and asked him 
quietly of what he had dreamed the previous night. At the ques- 
tion he was agitated. ' Father,' said he, ' I had so strange a dream 
that I do not like to tell you of it; it is, perhaps, the work of the 
evil one, and — ' 'I command it,' replied I: 'a dream is always 
involuntary, and is but an illusion.' ' Father,' said he, 'I was 
hardly asleep before I dreamed that you had killed mj' mother ; 
that her bleeding shade appeared and demanded vengeance ; at this 
sight I was so enraged that I flew like a madman to your apartment 
and stabbed you.' I then related to him what had occurred, and 
showed him the evidence of the blows he had dealt, as he thought, 
upon me. His services, at night, were therafter dispensed with." 

It is evident that the symptoms manifest in the conduct of Lady 
Macbeth were placed to the credit of insanity, and that the treat- 
ment in vogue for that malady was perhaps invoked for her cure. — 
as this phraseology, " find her disease, and purge it to a sound and 
pristine health," etc., will make apparent; it is certain, however, 
that we would in diagnosing a case manifesting symptoms as in 
that of the Prior, have to be cautious in the expression of an opin- 
ion, because such freaks may occur in physiological conditions, as 
in dreams, reveries, etc. 

It is quite probable, however, that we would always find un- 



84 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

doubted insanity in cases so far progressed as that of tlie two cases 
mentioned ; indeed that is a common sequel to a vast majority 
of insidious mental disturbances. I have known, however, within 
the bounds of mj'^ own limited observation, somnambulistic condi- 
tions of the most confirmed type which never produced, seemingly, 
anything like a pathological condition, though present in the par- 
ties for many years. Judicial decision has, in cases involving 
offences committed in a state of somnambulism, placed it on a par 
with insanity, — thus declaring the irresponsibility of a person for 
acts committed whilst in this state of mind. 

In reasoning upon these cases, it certainly would appear that 
however normal the mind maj'' act during the state of wakefulness, 
that yet the recumbent position of the body, or some condition 
resulting from the process of sleep, must, for the time, produce a 
transient morbid process in the cerebrum which is the starting point 
for its morbid action. It is scarcely reasonable that we have mor- 
bid ideas leading to morbid actions, emanating from a purely physi- 
ological source. 

The remarkable fact is again apparent in the foregoing quotation 
of the accuracy of Shakespeare's therapeutics. He would use 
some "sweet oblivious antidote " just as would the medical man 
this hour, under like circumstances ; though doubtless the modern 
psychologist has remedies at command which more nearly come up 
to the idea of " sweet and oblivious " than had the practitioner of 
1483. Bromide of potassium, chloroform, hydrate of chloral, etc., 
were not then known to the profession — except, may be, the latter, 
or some drug analagous to it in action as used by Friar Lawrence, 
and noted further on in this volume. Opium and its preparations 
have always been the " antidotes" (in the Shakespearean sense) to 
mental troubles, — hold the front rank yet and perhaps always will, 
though it seems not to be as well borne now as in former times. It is 
no doubt the remedy referred to in the text. 

The doubt and distrust in regard to the potency of medicine, and 
yet the clinging to the idea that something could be done, is clearly 
manifest in the remarks of Macbeth when he wishes physic to be 
thrown to the dogs but asks half beseechingly if the doctor cannot 
find her disease and imrcje it to health. He also is aped by the public 
to-day in the manner most congenial in compensating the physician 
for his services — would "applaud him to the very echo." Many 
people prefer this method of liquidating their doctor's bill rather 
yian by paj'ing cash. 



PSYCHOLOGY. 85 

AVe read the following profound thought in Hamlet : 

Queen. "This is the very coinage of your brain: this bodiless 
creation ecstacy is very cunning in. 

Hamlet. Ecstacy ! My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep 
time, and makes as healthful music. It is not madness that I have 
utter' d: bring me to the test and I the matter will re-word, which 
madness would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace, lay not 
that flattering unction to your soul, that not your trespass, but my 
madness speaks : it will but skin and film the ulcerous place, whilst 
rank corruption, mining all within, infects unseen." 

This conversation occurred between Hamlet and his mother rela- 
tive to a declaration on the part of the former that he had seen and 
conversed with the ghost of his father — the king, whom his mother 
and her paramour had secretly murdered. 

Hamlet's defence of his own sanity is a pretty thorough one. He 
claims that he had no ecstacy from the fact that he had no lesion of 
the circulation, and that he maintained ability to recount all that 
occurred in conversation with the ghost. The first of these pleas 
had some foundation in fact ; as it is known that in ecstatic condi- 
tions external sensations are suspended, and all the vital functions 
retarded and sluggish, whilst voluntary movements are arrested 
and held in complete abeyance, the pulse therefore not keeping 
step to " healthful music," but doubtless being less frequent than 
normal ; during this time, however, the mental faculties are not 
necessarily suspended. 

Upon this point so eminent an authority as Bucknill also says, 
as was said in a previous chapter of Malvolio, who wished his sanity 
tested "by any constant question" — a maniac may gambol from 
reproducing in the same words any statement he has made when he 
is affected with acute mania, but in some chronic forms he may keep 
up a line of coherent conversation as well as those of the soundest 
minds ; — and as to the condition of the pulse as an index to the 
true mental condition, the same writer thinks Shakespeare's con- 
clusions, from the words he places in the mouth of Hamlet, at least 
doubtful as to accuracy. 

The pulse in mania averages about fifteen beats above that of 
health ; that of the insane generally, including maniacs, only aver- 
ages nine beats above the healthy standard, while the pulse in mel- 
ancholia and monomania is not above the average. 

There had been an interview between Hamlet and his mother be- 



86 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

fore the passage before quoted, and which gave rise to it — namel}-, 
the times at whicli he professed to have talked with the ghost as 
below detailed : 

Hamlet. " A king of shreds and patches. — Save me, and hover 
o'er me with your wings, you heavenly guards! — What would you, 
gracious figure? 

Queen. Alas! he's mad. 

Hamlet. Do you not come your tardy son to chide, that, laps'd 
in fume and passion, lets go by th' important acting of your dread 
command? O, say! 

Ghost. Do not forget. This visitation is but to whet thy almost 
blunted purpose. But, look! amazement on thy mother sits: O, 
step between her and her fighting soul ; conceit in weakest bodies 
strongest works. Speak to her, Hamlet. 

Hamlet. How is it with you, lady? 

Queen. Alas! how is't with you, that you do bend your eyes on 
vacancy, and with th' incorporal air do hold discourse? forth at 
your eyes your spirits wildly peep ; and, as the sleeping soldiers in 
th' alarm, your bedded hair, like life in excrements, starts up, and 
stands on end. O gentle son ! Upon the heat and flame of th}' 
distemper sprinkle cool patience. Where on do you look? 

Hamlet. On him, on him! Look you, how pale he glares! His 
form and cause conjoin'd, pleading to stones, would make them 
capable. — Do not look upon me ; lest with this piteous action you 
convert my stern effects : then, what I have to do will want true 
color ; tears, perchance, for blood. 

Queen. To whom do you speak thus ? 

Hamlet. Do you see nothing there? 

Queen. Nothing at all ; j-et all that is. I see. 

Hamlet. Did j'ou nothing hear? 

Queen. No, nothing but ourselves. 

Hamlet. Why, look you there ! look how it steals away ! My 
father, in his habit as he liv'd! Look, where he goes, even now, 
out at the portal ! " (Exit Ghost.) 

Hamlet had doubtless been greatl}'^ excited ])y his father's death: 
doubly so, perhaps, by the " deep damnation of his taking off," and 
was, therefore, in a fit mental capacity to " see visions and dream 
dreams," and his scene with his father's ghost is but an example of 
thousands of occurrences which have taken place in all periods of 
the world's history, and of the realities of which the beholders have 
never entertained a doubt. 



PSYCHOLOGY. 87 

Hippoljte in " A Midsummer Night's Dream" assures us, that 
the " lunatic, the lover and the poet are of imagination all compact: 
one sees more devils than vast hell can hold ; that is the mad man." 
These devils were seen particularly by those religious fanatics and 
mad men so common to the historic period not very remote from the 
days in which Shakespeare wrote. Spectres of this character are 
not now so common among the insane. 

The following narrative from DeBoismont is analogous to the 
vision of Hamlet. He says: "we owe to a very eminent physician 
of acknowledged reputation, and intimate with Sir Walter Scott, 
the recital of a fact, that once occurred to a well known personage, 
which is, without contradiction, one of the most curious examples 
that can be offered in the histor}'^ of hallucinations. 

The physician was, by chance, called on to attend a man, now 
long deceased, who, during his life, filled an important office in a 
particular department of justice. His functions made him fre- 
quently an arbiter of the interests of others ; his conduct was 
therefore open to public observation, and for a series of years he en- 
joyed a reputation for uncommon firmness, good sense, and integrity. 

At the time when the physician visited him, he kept his room, 
sometimes his bed, and yet he continued, now and then, to engage 
in the duties of his office ; his mind displayed its usual force and 
habitual energy in directing the business which devolved on him. 
A superficial observer would not have noticed anything indicative 
of a weakness or oppression of mind. 

The external symptoms announced no acute or alarming illness ; 
but the slowness of his pulse, the failure of his appetite, a painful 
digestion, and an unceasing sadness, appeared to have their source 
in some cause which the invalid was resolved to conceal. The 
gloomy air of the unhappy man, the embarrassment which he could 
not disguise, the constraint with which he replied briefly to the ques- 
tions of the physician, induced the latter to apply to his family, who 
could not give him any satisfactory information. The physician 
then had recourse to arguments calculated to make a strong impres- 
sion on the mind of the patient. He pointed out the folly of 
devoting himself to a slow death rather than communicate the secret 
of the grief which was dragging him to the grave. Above all, he 
represented the injury he was inflicting on his own reputation, by 
creating a suspicion that the cause of his affliction, and the conse- 
quences resulting, were of too disgraceful a nature to be owned ; 



88 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

and added, that he would bequeath to his family a suspected and 
dishonored name, and leave a memory to which would be attached 
the idea of some crime, which he dared not own, even in his dying 
hour. 

This latter argument made more impression than any which had 
been previously started, and he expressed a desire to unbosom him- 
self frankly to the doctor. They were left together, the door of 
the sick man's room was carefully closed, and he began his confes- 
sion in the following manner : — 

"You cannot, my dear friend, be more convinced than mj^self, 
of the death that threatens me ; but you cannot comprehend the 
nature of the disease, nor the manner in which it acts' upon me ; 
and even if you could, I doubt if either your zeal or your talents 
could cure me." 

"It is possible," replied the physician, "that my talents 
would not be equal to the desire I have to be useful to you, 
but medical science has many resources, which only those who 
have studied can appreciate. However, unless you clearly describe 
your symptoms, it is impossible to say whether it is in my power, 
or in that of medicine, to relieve you." 

"I assure you," replied the patient, "that my situation is not 
unique, for there is a similar example in the celebrated romance of 
Le Sage. Without doubt, you remember by what disease the Duke 
of Olivares died? He was overcome by the idea that he was followed 
by an apparition, in whose existence he did not believe ; and he 
died because the presence of this vision conquered his strength and 
broke his heart. Well, my 8ear doctor, mine is a similar case ; and 
the vision that persecutes me is so painful and so frightful, that my 
reason is quite inadequate to combat the effects of a frenzied imag- 
ination, and I feel that I shall die, the victim of an imaginary 
malady." 

The physician attentively listened, and judiciously abstained from 
any contradiction ; he contented himself with asking for more cir- 
cumstantial details of the nature of the apparition that persecuted 
him, and the manner in which so singular an affection had seized on 
his imagination, which, it would appear, a very moderate exercise 
of understanding would have succeeded in destroying. 

The patient replied that the attack had been gradual, and that, in 
the commencement, it was neither terrible nor very unpleasant ; 
and that the progress of his sufferings was as follows: — 



PSYCHOLOGY. 89 

'' My visions," said he, " began two or three years ago. I was 
then annoyed by the presence of a great cat, which came and dis- 
appeared I knew not how ; but I did not continue long in doubt, for 
I perceived that this domestic animal was the result of a vision pro- 
duced by a derangement in the organs of sight, or of the imagination. 
At the end of a few months, the cat disappeared, and was succeeded 
by a phantom of a higher grade, and whose exterior was, at least, 
more imposing. It was no other than a gentleman usher, dressed 
as though he was in the service of the Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, 
or of a great functionary of the church, or of any other person of 
rank or dignity. This character, in a court-dress, with big bag wig, 
a sword by his side, a vest worked in tambour, and a chapeau-brass, 
glided by my side like the shade of beau Nash. Whether in my 
own house, or elsewhere, he mounted the stairs before me, as if to 
announce me. Sometimes he mixed in with the company, although 
it was evident no one ever remarked his presence, and that I alone 
witnessed the chimerical honors he paid me. 

This caprice of imagination did not make a strong impression on 
me ; but it raised a question as to the nature of the disease, and I 
began to fear the effects it might have on my senses. After a few 
months, ray gentleman-usher was no more seen, but was replaced 
by a phantom horrible to the sight, and disgusting to the mind, — a 
skeleton." 

"Alone, or in societj''," added the unfortunate man, "• this ap- 
parition never leaves me. It is in vain that I repeat to myself 
that it has no realitj'^, that it is but an illusion caused by the de- 
rangement of my sight, or a disordered imagination. Of what use 
are such reflections, when the presage and the emblem of death is 
constantly before my eyes? when I see myself, although only in 
my imagination, forever the companion of a phantom representing 
the gloomy inhabitant of the tomb, whilst I am still upon earth? 
Neither science, philosophy, nor even religion, has a remedy for 
such a disease ; and I too truly feel that I shall die this cruel death, 
although I have no faith in the reality of the spectre that is always 
present." 

"It would appear then," said the physician, " that this skeleton 
is ever before you." 

" It is my hapless destiny to see it always," replied the sick man. 

" In this case," continued the doctor, " you see it now? " 

"Yes." 



90 



SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 



" In what part of the room does it appear to you?" 

" At the foot of my bed; when the curtains are a little open, it 
places itself between them, and fills the opening," 

' ' You say that you understand it to be only an illusion ? — In 
dreams we are frequently aware that the apparition that freezes us 
with fear is false ; but we cannot, nevertheless, overcome the terror 
that oppresses us. Have you firmness enough to be positively con- 
vinced? Can you rise, and take the place which the spectre appears 
to occupy, in order to assure yourself that it is a real illusion? " 

The poor man sighed and shook his head. 

" Well, then," said she doctor, " we will try another plan." He 
quitted the chair on which he had been seated, at the head of the 
bed, and placing himself between the open curtains, in the spot 
pointed out as being the place occupied by the apparition, he en- 
quired if the skeleton was yet visible. 

"Much less, because you are between it and me, but I see the 
skull over your shoulder." 




It is said that, in spite of his philosophy, the learned doctor 
shuddered at the thought of an ideal spectre behind him. 
The patient perished, a victim of this hallucination. 
I quote this lengthy paper to show with what fidelity Shake- 



PSYCHOLOGY. 91 

speare drew the picture of hallucination in the case of Hamlet. 
Whether his intuitive perceptions gave him the power of description, 
or did personal observation, or an idea gained from reading the 
details of an analogous case, I am at a loss to conjecture ; certain it 
is, however, that it is masterly in its portraiture, be the origin what 
it might. The analog}'' is even borne out in the similarity of the 
vague fear which haunted the Queen, even in the presence of Ham- 
let, and that which startled the learned doctor when the skeleton 
jjeeped over his shoulder. Ghost. "But, look! Amazement on 
thy mother sits: O, step between her and her fighting soul." 
(^Frightened soul.) ' 

It appears from the observations of high authoritj' upon hallu- 
cinations that they are " never an expression of an aroused activity 
of the psychic sphere, but on the contrary are indications of the 
exhaustion of the same, i. e., of the cortex of the anterior part of 
the brain." 

This was eminently the condition of the overworked patient of 
which mention is made by De Boismont. Hamlet's mental condition 
was also no doubt one in which exhaustion plaj'ed an important part, 
as the exciting incidents connected with the murder of his father 
were sufficient to make apparent. 

The passage in regard to the illness of King John so often quoted 
bj'^ medical writers — "It is too late; the life of all his blood is 
touch' d corruptibly ; and his pure brain (which some suppose the 
soul's fair dwelling-house,) doth by the idle comments that it makes, 
foretell the ending of mortality," is inimitable — unsurpassed, as a 
description of the muttering delirium common to low forms of 
fever, etc., but its notice belongs more to the physician than to the 
psychatriatist proper. It appears that when we regard mind as 
only the offspring or result of matter possessing certain properties 
of composition, consistence, form, etc., that we must expect that 
when these are in any way changed we must have change also in the 
thing which is produced — a change in the mental phenomena. 

If the muscular and nervous mechanism of the arm is impaired, 
motion (the results of the mechanism) is also impaired. If the 
lesion in either the brain or in the arm is susceptible of repair and 
their mechanism is made good in all its parts, then the work per- 
formed must be normal. One broad line of distinction then between 
delirium and acute mania, etc., and the other forms of insanity, rests 
in the fact that the brain is only temporarily embarrassed in its work- 



92 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

ings, by agents acting through the general system, in the one ease, 
while in the other the lesion is specifically organic. Of course there 
are many of the former class of cases which go still farther — farther 
than a mere limited intoxication of the senses, — as in mania a potu, 
for example. When these cases go to the extreme, then of course 
they are subjects of proper psychological research. The assertion 
however of the king's attendant that it was " too late " was not well 
fonnded when predicated upon the fact of the " idle comments " 
alone, because although always a grave sjnnptom if it occurs early 
and is persistent, yet it is not accompanied in the mind of the 
physician with that absolutely fatal prognostication entertained by 
those who surrounded the king. Shakespeare makes a mistake also, 
it is thought, in attributing this kind of mental aberration to King 
John, because delirium is not commonly present in the maladj^ of 
which he was dying. Typlioid and typhus fevers are the maladies 
in which such delirium is most prominently and commonly noticed. 
In pernicious fever, from which King John must have died, as the 
symptomotology as given in another chapter clearly points, there 
is sometimes, at the very close, a muttering of many words, but 
they are commonly coherent and the offspring apparently of an 
unclouded intellect. I recall to mind the death of a very old man 
with a congestive chill, who at the last moments repeated in a 
prayerful, chanting tone common to the church service of the sect 
to which he belonged, the words, "I'm a g'wine to die. O! my 
friends, in youth is the time to prepare! " — the peculiar intonation 
of which might readily have lead a non-professional person to have 
said he was " not in his right mind." It is claimed by the drama- 
tist also, as will be seen in the chapter referred to further on in this 
work, that the king had been poisoned — a conclusion it is thought 
wholly untenable. (See King John, A. v., Sc. vi.) 

It is however indeed wonderful to note the accuracy of Shake- 
speare's knowledge even in the medical thought contained in the 
above short quotation. " The life of all his blood is touch'd cor- 
ruptibly," and from this fact (constitutionally, and not from a local 
brain lesion ) makes he the muttering and illogical talk ! Who 
besides this master intellect could have so accurately deduced proper 
symptoms from such hypothecated premises? He was even versed 
in the scientific use of the imagination. 

The parenthetical clause "and his pure brain (which some sup- 
pose the soul's frail dwelling-house)," contains too much of the 



PSYCHOLOGY. 93 

profoundly metaphysical to admit of ordinary minds descanting 
profitably upon it. Briefly, however, it may be said that from our 
materialistic views we see therein as much logic, and a doctrine 
which to us offers as much consolation, as any ever advanced upon 
the subject of the soul. We can see nothing in man — no trait or 
attribute which answers to the principle of what people call " soul " 
except the attribute — mind. 

As to the immortality of that manifestation, I think the motion of 
my arm just as probable of everlasting preservation. Indeed this 
is the doctrine of the age — force is eternal. 

One finale awaits the man and all his attributes. 

" Romeo and Juliet," A. ii., S. iii., has this language: 

Romeo. " Good-morrow, father. 

Friar. Benedicite ! 

What early tongue so sweetly saluteth me? — 
Young son, it argues a distemper' d head, 
So soon to bid good-morrow to your bed : 
Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, 
And where care lodges, sleep will never lie ; 
But where unbusied youth, with unstuff'd brain 
Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign." 

The observation of Friar Laurence in the present case is very 
accurate indeed as to the first paragraph, for it is a fact borne out 
by observation, that of all the passions, love is most potent to cause 
sleepless nights. A man may hate, but he will sleep to-night and 
hate again to-morrow ; he may get angry or sorry, and yet tired 
nature's sweet restorer folds him in her embrace, and woos him to 
present forgetfulness ; grief, remorse, despair, envy, jealousy, all 
find repose in balmy sleep ; but a bad case of " mash " never! 

It does not occur to us, however, that the residue of the good Friar's 
philosophy is of that profound quality which engenders unbounded 
admiration in us. It is not care which renders the old man sleep- 
less, but a true pathological change in the structure of the brain — 
in the vessels particularly, — and perhaps also to a greater or less 
degree in all the tissues of the organ. The lack of tonicity in the 
vascular walls allows the blood currents to become sluggish — the 
brain never becoming emptied sufficiently to approach the anaemic 
condition essential to normal sleep. In the concluding lines of the 
quotation, where he speaks of the unstuff'd brain of youth, he un- 



94 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

doubtedly in his language strikes the true phj^siological condition of 
the brain in sleep with all the accuracy incident to the most advanced 
investigation ; but unfortunately his idects applied to the thought which 
stuffed the organ and not to the blood that loaded its vessels. Yet 
it must be admitted that the two conditions are inseparably associated. 
The picture is very skillfully drawn, however, if we look at it even 
through professional spectacles alone. In the aged, besides the 
change in the vessels of the brain and the hyperemia incident 
thereto, we have a lack of activity in the whole system which favors 
the local stasis in the brain — the blood not being called away from that 
organ. The organic functions are apathetic and need only a limited 
and passive supply for their slowl}'^ moving existence. Typical of 
this fact, let us take the stomach and note what an influence it has 
upon this brain functiDn — upon sleep. Immediately after a hearty 
dinner we feel sleepy, because the unusual blood supply necessary 
to aid the stomach in the performance of its task of digestion 
unloads the brain. In the old even this function is so impaired, 
commonly, that its beneficial effects are measurably lost. 

The following conversation between Brutus and Cassius explains 
itself : 

Cassius. " I did not think you could have been so angry. 

Brutus. O, Cassius ! I am sick of my many griefs. 

Cassius. Of your philosophy you make no use, if you give 
place to accidental evils. 

Brutus. No man bears sorrow better. — Portia is dead. 

Cassius. Ha! Portia? 

Brutus. She is dead. 

Cassius. How 'scap'd I killing, when I cross'd you so? — O, in- 
supportable and touching loss! — Upon what sickness? 

Brutus. Impatient of my absence, and grief that young OctaviUs 
with Mark Antony have made themselves so strong ; — for with her 
death that tidings came. — With this she fell distract, and, her 
attendants absent, swallow'd fire. 

Cassius. And died so? 

Brutus. Even so. 

Cassius. O, ye immortal gods ! " 

The period in Roman history in which the above purports to have 
occurred is known as " the period of civil wars" — an era in which 
domestic strife, rapine and bloodshed held high carnival. Caesar 



PSYCHOLOGY. 95 

had been assassinated in the Senate chamber by the conspirators 
headed by Cassius and Brutus, and they in turn were pushed to the 
wall by 3^0 ung Octavius, nephew of the murdered CiBsar, all of 
which no do.ubt told fearfully on the body and mind of Portia, the 
wife of Brutus, — she seeming to entertain for him the most ardent 
affection. The mental organization of women makes them mostly 
subject to that form of insanity known as " emotional," and the 
strange freaks which sometimes seize upon their crazied imagination 
will cause them to attempt to "eat fire" or do any other unaccount- 
able thing. This is certainly an original way, however, of commit- 
ting suicide. Some of these poor creatures have curious notions 
of ways in which to " shuffle off this mortal coil," — the leaping 
into the fathomless mass of seething lava which constitutes the ter- 
rors of Vesuvius, or the fearful plunge over^the falls of Niagara, 
seem to meet the fastidious notions of some of these unfortunates, 
whose life has proven a failure. What is the difference, after all, 
between either of these modes, on the one hand, or by the explosion 
of an oil can or the drowning in a duck puddle on the other? 

The final cataclysm in which the universe goes to wreck, if such 
an occurrence should ever occur, will be no worse to bear by the 
single individual than is the death in a rail-road horror. 

We find some thoughts on normal mental phenomena in various 
places in Shakespeare's writings, among others the boastful lan- 
guage of the pedagogue Holofernes, in " Love's Labor's Lost," in 
which instance he enumerates his special talents, and claims that 
" these are begot in the ventricle of memory, nourished in the womb 
of pia mater ^ and delivered upon the mellowing of occasion." 

The term " begot in the ventricle of memory " is not scientifically 
correct ; — the conception as to the locality of the registering por- 
tion of the brain being at fault ; — as is also the idea that "memory ' ' 
is "begot" in the brain. Strictly speaking, memory is originated 
outside of the brain — that is, it is a recurrence of the mind to an 
external fact, the recognition of which has at some time in the past 
been registered in the ganglia, and has, perhaps, remained dormant 
until some similar fact or circumstance brushed the dust of time 
from the record, and presented it again to the eye of the mind. — 
When, in reality, it is "delivered upon the mellowing of occasion." 

The dramatist came very near the truth however, in the place 
where he says of thought that it is nourished in the womb of pia 
mater. Modern research has established it as a fact that the portion 



96 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

of the brain in immediate proximity to the pia mater — the convo- 
lutions — are really the seat of intellection, — thus rendering it prob- 
able that the pabulum from which thought or the power to think is 
furnished is derived from the pia mater, at least, in part. 

" Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind," says Salanio in "The 
Merchant of Venice." Sick in mind! lam persuaded that men- 
tal suffering in this world greatly over aggregates that of physical ; 
and he who has not chanced to experience their relative powers, 
has so far escaped misfortune. " Too much sadness hath congealed 
your blood," and " melancholy is the nurse of frenzy," are found 
in the same drama. It is true that melancholy does often precede 
active mania, but that sadness lowers the temperature of the blood 
is only true figuratively. The power that mental suffering has over 
the physical Avell-being of an individual is very well pictured in 
"The Winter's Tale." 

"Conceiving the dishonor of his mother, he straight declin'd. 
droop'd, took it deeply, fasten'd and fix'd the shame on't in him- 
self, threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep, and downright 
languish'd." Here we have another excellent pen-picture of a 
troubled mind, where "thick-coming fancies kept him from his 
rest." As William Cullen Bryant said some years ago, in his ad- 
dress at the unvailing of the statue of the " bard of Stratford" in 
Central Park, New York, — "What a physician might he not have 
made to an insane asylum ! " 

Bearing upon the same point as the matter quoted last above, we 
find numerous lines and phrases : 

"Thy father's beard is turned white with the news," in Henr}^ 
the Fourth ; while in Henry the Sixth we find the mental infirmities 
of senility compared to mania, — evidently an assertion of the right 
to latitude which is always granted to fictionists. 

The enquiry " what madness rules in brain-sick men," "sure the 
man is mad," "brain-sick duchess," etc., is also found in the sixth 
Henry, part second. " Mj^ hair be fix'd on end as one distract," 
is also used in same ; — an idea, by the way^ that is universal. How 
often do we hear the term — "My hair lifted my hat from my head," 
as descriptive of horror or excessive fright. There is certainly 
some foundation for the sensation — possibly a contraction of the 
muscular structures of the scalp, or may be a congestion of its 
capillary circulation, or some other condition made upon the parts 
through the medium of the nervous apparatus — analogous to that 



PSYCHOLOGY. 97 

of suffusion of the face in blushing for example. The hair does 
really assume a more or less erectile condition ; we see its analogue 
in animals — the dog and cat especially, when they turn their hair 
the wrong way, in the condition of affright, and also of anger. 

The term "brain-sick " is also used in "Troilus and Cressida " 
and in " Titus Andronicus," whilst in the former it is asserted 
that " extremity of griefs do make men mad " — a declaration which 
it has been the misfortune of thousands to see verified. A graphic 
description of a "tainted" mind is given by Lady Percy, in 
Henry IV., A. ii., S. ii. : " O, my good lord, why are you thus 
alone? For what offence have I this fortnight been a banish'd 
woman from my Harry's bed? Tell me, sweet love, what is 't 
takes from thee thy stomach, pleasure and thy golden sleep? Why 
dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth, and start so often when 
thou sit'st alone? Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheek, 
and given my treasure, and my right of thee, to thick-ey'd musing 
and curs' d melancholy?" 

Percy was a political and military schemer, and scrupled not, 
like all of his class, to go into any game, however hazardous, pro- 
vided he had a show to win. It was upon the eve of an important 
enterprise that his wife addressed him in the language above. 

In "Troilus and Cressida" it is said that "with too much 
blood and too little brain these two may run mad ; but if with too 
much brain and too little blood they do, I will be a curer of mad 
men." Here we have an error in supposition, as it is not " little " 
brains that "run mad," though "plethora" be present by the 
barrel. Too much brain and too little blood are much more favor- 
able conditions for such an occurrence, though Shakespeare seems 
not to so regard it ; it seems that to the feeble intellect and plethora 
he looks for his causation in the instance before us. He tells us 
himself in " Cymbeline " that " Fools are not mad folks." 

As to the mental condition of King Lear, I cannot view his ec- 
centric railings as the acts of a mad man, but rather as freaks in 
the harrassed mind of one possessed naturally of a large degree of 
senile asceticism. He was by nature a cynic. 

This is evidently the view taken of the father's condition by both 
Goneril and Regan. The latter says to him on an occasion of his 
having had some harsh language toward her sister: " O, sir! you 
are old ; Nature stands in you on the very verge of her confine : you 
should be rul'd and led by some discretion, that discerns your state 



98 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHTSICIAN. 

better than yourself," while the former at another time tells him: 
"All's not offense that indiscretion finds, and dotage terms so." 
Though later on in their relations, and when their intolerance of 
their father and his retinue of an hundred revelous retainers had 
rendered their quarrel with him very bitter, they do not hesitate to 
use such terms toward him as "to whose hands have you sent the 
lunatic king," and even his own friends who were often witnesses 
of his maledictions could not, sometimes, but think him mad. He 
was ANGRY, but not insane ; and these declarations of his daughters 
were not their real sentiments, but were only used by them to show 
the extremity of their bitter resentment toward him. We note this 
idea of morbid-mind in the language of Gloster: "Come hither, 
friend: where is the king, my master?" Kent: "Here, sir; but 
trouble him not; his wits are gone;" and Cordelia also says on 
meeting him after her short stay in France : " Alack ! 'tis he : why, 
he was met even now as mad as the vex'd sea: singing aloud," etc., 
while, in description of some of his sarcastic philippics, Edgar, another 
of his friends, says: " O, matter and impertinency mix'd; reason 
in madness!" 

Lear was old — eighty years and more, according to his own declara- 
tion, and to one who will study closely all he says it will be seen 
that much of profound thought and little of mental alienation is ap- 
parent in what he says. Take this passage for example, which 
occurs toward the close of his life, and judge whether it sounds like 
the utterance of one whose mind is in abeyance: " A dog's obey'd 
in office." " Through tattered clothes small vices do appear ; robes 
and furr'd gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold, and the strong 
lance of justice hurtless breaks: arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw 
doth pierce it." His integrity of purpose as is manifested in all he 
says and does, and the clear conceptions he has as to the great in- 
gratitudes and lack of filial duties on the part of his daughters, is 
never lost sight of even in his wildest and most extravagant mo- 
ments. The " stings and sorrows of outrageous fortune " could not 
drive these thankless deeds from his mind, but presented them to 
him at all times in their real character of undiluted diabolism. He 
was indeed but a " poor old man, full of grief and age," and any 
one of us burdened even with fewer of the snows of life's winters, 
placed under like circumstances would need more than "an ounce 
of civet" to sweeten our iipaginations, and we needn't be crazy 
either. In his most irrelevant language he is much less the mad- 



PSYCHOLOGY. 99 

man than is Edgar, who openly declares that he has assumed the 
character of a Bedlam beggar — one just out of a mad-house, — for a 
purpose. Lear's distemper was but the " unruly waywardness that 
infirm and choleric years bring with them. The best and soundest 
of his time had been but rash." 

After Lear had been refused lodging by his daughters, and had 
been by them turned adrift into the night of relentless storm, his 
sense of outraged justice reached its climax ; and from the hour in 
which he was again brought into the presence of the sympathetic 
soul of Cordelia he calmly resigns himself to quietude — resolved, 
as I can see, to bother himself no more over grievances he is power- 
less to amend. Hence we find him enjoying the long and refreshing 
sleep as appears in the quotation below : 

'■'■ Cordelia. (^To the physician.) How does the king? 

Doctor. Madam, sleeps still. 

Cordelia. O, you kind gods, cure this great breach in his abused 
nature ! Th' untim'd and jarring senses, O, wind up of this child- 
changed father ! 

Doctor. So please your majesty that we may wake the king? he 
hath slept long. 

Cordelia. Be govern' d by your knowledge, and proceed i' the 
sway of your own will. Is he array'd? 

Doctor. A.J, madam ; in the heaviness of his sleep we put fresh 
garments on him. 

Kent. Good, madam, be by when we do awake him — I doubt not 
of his temperance. 

Cordelia. Very well. (^Music.) 

Doctor. Please you, draw near. — Louder the music there. 

Cordelia. O my dear father! Restoration, hang thy medicine 
on my lips ; and let this kiss repair those violent harms, that my 
two sisters have in thy reverence made ! 

Kent. Kind and dear princess. 

Cordelia. Had you not been their father, these white flakes had 
challeng'd pity of them. Was this a face to be expos'd against 
the jarring winds? to stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder? 
in the most terrible and nimble stroke of quick, cross lightning? to 
watch with this thin helm? Mine enemies' dog should not 

Alack, alack! 'Tis a wonder that thy life and wits at once had 
not concluded all. — He wakes ; speak to him. 



100 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAK. 

Doctor. Madam, do you ; 'tis fittest. 

Cordelia. How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty? 

Lear. You do me wrong, to take me out of the grave. — Thou 
art a soul in bliss, but I am bound upon a wheel of fire, th-at mine 
own tears do scald like molten lead. 

Cordelia. Sir, do you know me? 

Lear. You are a spirit, I know. Where did you die? 

Cordelia. Still, still, far wide. 

Doctor. He's scarce awake: let him alone awhile. 

Lear. Where have I been? where am I? fair daylight? — I am 
mightily abus'd. — I should even die with pity to see another thus. 
I am a very foolish, fond old man, four-score and upward, and, to 
deal plainly, I fear I am not in my perfect mind. {Cordelia weeps.) 

Doctor. Be comforted, good madam : the great rage, you see, is 
cur'd in him ; and yet it is danger to make him even o'er the time 
he has lost. Desire him to go in : trouble him no more, till farther 
settling. 

Cordelia. Will't please your highness walk? 

Lear. You must bear with me : pray you now, forget and for- 
give. I am old and foolish." 

It is perceived throughout the whole of the foregoing extract that 
the paramount idea of every one — doctor, Cordelia, and even the 
old king himself , is that "mental worry," occasioned by the ill 
usage received at the hands of his daughters, constituted the sum 
total of this brain malady — merely extreme excitement, relieved as 
it always is by a quiet sleep — the physical "tire" occasioned by 
his night of exposure and a dose of opium doubtless contributing 
to that end. Refreshing sleep is always a favorable sign in the in- 
sane, but does not by any means always argue a complete subsidence 
of the malady. 

In none of the other characters of Shakespeare who are by writers 
considered in some degree insane, namely — Timon of Athens, 
Ophelia, Constance, Jaques, Melvolio, etc., can I see actual insanity, 
except, perhaps, in the case of Ophelia. A close study of these 
characters will reveal the fact that Shakespeare did not intend or 
essay the description of insane persons in the delineation of their 
characters through their own mouths. In Timon we certainly find 
an individual possessing a mental organization very nearly akin to 
that of Lear, and in whose freaks we see but the form of continued 



PSYCHOLOGY. 101 

anger which renders men misanthropes. If mere eccentricity and 
oddity of character be placed as insanity, we need hardly search for 
the sane. Shakespeare's characters named above very clearly be- 
long to the class of characters named by Lord Shaftesbury as 
quoted by Bucknill: " There is also among these a sort of hatred 
to mankind and society ; a passion which has been known perfectly 
reigning among some men, and has had a peculiar name given to it 
— misanthropy. A large share of this belongs to those who have 
habitually indulged themselves in moroseness, or who, by force of 
ill-nature and ill-breeding, have contracted such a reverse of affa- 
bility, and civil manners, that to see or meet a stranger is offensive. 
The very aspect of mankind is a disturbance to them, and they are 
sure always to hate at first sight." 

In introducing into the pages of this book those portions of 
Shakespeare's writings which pertain exclusively to the emotions, 
it is done from consideration of the fact that in their extremes, as 
we here find them, it is difficult to say just where the purely physio- 
logical ends and the psychological begins. Shakespeare himself 
fully comprehended this fact. He puts the following words into 
the mouth of Rosalind: " Love is merely a madness, and I tell you, 
deserves as well a dark-house and a whip as mad men do." In the 
above position we are sustained by the opinions of Bucknill, from 
whose writings we have before quoted, as he says " no state of the 
reasoning faculty can, by itself, be the cause or condition of mad- 
ness ; congenital idiocy and acquired dementia being alone ex- 
cepted. The corollary of this is, that emotional disturbance is the 
cause and condition of insanity. In the prodromic period of the 
disorder the emotions are always perverted, while the reason re- 
mains intact. Disorders of the intellectual faculties are secondary ; 
they are often, indeed, to be recognized as the morbid emotions 
transformed into perverted action of the reason ; but in no case are 
they primary or essential." 

Among all the emotions which are common to the human mind, 
there is none which more surely and swiftly preys upon the mental 
and physical organization of man or woman than the hideous mon- 
ster jealousy. What other passion of the mind could have stirred 
with equal force the stern and haughty soul of Othello, or have 
aroused in an equal degree the revengeful ire of Leontes? If 
there is one sentiment in the bosom of the human family that is 
supremely selfish, it is found in the emotion known as jealousy. 



102 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

In " Much Ado About Nothing," Beatrice, in one of her caustic 
conversational sallies, uses the following language: " The count is 
neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well ; but civil, count, civil as 
an orange, and something of as jealous a complexion ;" whilst in 
"The Merchant of Venice " the fair Portia is made to say: 

" How all the other passions fleet to air. 
As doubtful thoughts, and rash embrac'd despair, 
And shuddering fear, and green-eyed jealousy." 

She was comparing the other passions with love, and like the female 
world in general, made it paramount to all other human attributes. 
In each of the passages above noticed, we see the notion put forth 
as to the close connexion of this passion — ^jealousy — and biliary 
derangement, — giving origin to the term in such common use, 
"The green-eyed monster." Indeed, it is a fact admitted by most 
writers on physiology that this condition of the mind, above all 
others, has a specific tendency toward deranging the hepatic func- 
tions ; and melancholia is said also to sometimes produce the same 
effect. We have never observed either to be causative of such a 
condition, — although we have known a pang of jealousy, in a 
person otherwise in excellent health, to so affect the halitus from 
the pulmonary tissues as to render it insufferably offensive in less 
than five minutes, — the extremities at the same time passing into 
an icy coldness. These manifestations are not strange, however, 
when we remember what power other emotional conditions exert 
over the various functions of the body — as, for instance, fear over 
the alimentary and urinary organs, anger upon the mammary 
secretion, etc., etc. 

In "The Winter's Tale " we have the matter between Leontes, 
his queen, and Polixenes, king of Bohemia. 

Leontes, being of a jealous disposition, thinks he discovers a 
growing intimacy springing up between his guest and his queen, and 
half to himself, half to his young son, he thus soliloquizes: 

" To mingle friendships far is mingling bloods ; there have been, 
or I am much deceiv'd, cuckolds ere now; and many a man there 
is (even at this present, now, while I speak this) holds his wife by 
the arm, that little thinks she has been sluc'd in 's absence, and his 
pond fish'd by his next neighbor, by Sir Smile, his neighbor. Nay, 
there's comfort in 't, whilst other men have gates, and those gates 
open'd, as mine, against their will. Should all despair that have 



PSYCHOLOGY. 103 

revolted wives, the tenth of mankind would hang themselves. 
Physic for 't there's none: it is a bawdy planet, that will strike 
wher 't is predominant ; and 'tis powerful, think it, no barricado 
for a belly : know it ; it will let in and out the enemy, with bag and 
baggage ; many a thousand on 's have the disease, and feel it not." 

His faithful servant Camillo essayed hard to persuade him that 
his queen was pure as the beautiful snow, — that he was laboring 
under a perturbed imagination ; but all this nice talk was hushed 
into stillness by the following inexorable logic of the king: 

" Is whispering nothing? Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting 
noses? kissing with inside lip? stopping the career of laughter 
with a sigh? (a note infallible of breaking honesty : ) horsing foot 
on foot? skulking in corners? wishing clocks more swift? hours, 
minutes? noon, midnight? and all eyes blind with ' pin and web' 
(old name for cataract) but theirs, theirs only, that would unseen 
be wicked? is this nothing? 

Camillo. Good, my lord, be cur'd of this diseas'd opinion, and 
betimes ; for 'tis most dangerous." 

Whether " so thick a drop serene had quench' d their orbes," or 
else the good king himself labored under an unusual obliquity of 
vision, we are certainly unable to say; but without doubt he put 
up a pretty hard case against the queen. In the meantime, Poli- 
xenes having "smelt a rat" endeavored to "pump" the man 
Camillo in regard to his master's conduct, which brought about this 
conversation : 

Polixenes. "The king hath on him such a countenance, as he 
had lost some province, and a region lov'd as he loves himself : 
even now I met him with customary compliment, when he, wafting 
his eyes to the contrary, and falling a lip of contempt, speeds 
from me." 

Reader, if you have ever had the misfortune to have engendered 
in the bosom of a friend a sense of jealousy, how do you like his 
picture? Camillo, in explanation, tells Polixenes that "there is 
a sickness which puts some of us in distemper ; but I cannot name 
the disease, and it is caught of you that yet are well." But, as 
suggested at another place in this work, it is left to the part of 
Othello^ the Moor of Venice, to portray to the utmost bounds of 
possibility the tortures of a jealous soul : the agonies of the 



104 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

doomed, in perdition, cannot surpass in reality what the author 
puts upon the soul of this black-a-moor. Could we sometimes 
draw aside the veil, and look for one short hour into the depths of 
the human heart, what of woe and misery might we not discover 
there, though it be gilded in its superfices with bright and sunny 
smiles and shrouded with a merry laugh. After a lengthy talk 
between the black general and his special pet, the villain lago, the 
latter admonished his master thus : 

" O ! beware, my lord, of jealousy ; it is the green-eyed monster, 
which doth make the meat it feeds on : that cuckold lives in bliss, 
who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger ; but O ! what 
damned minutes tells he o'er, who dotes, yet doubts ; suspects, yet 
fondly loves! In Venice these women do let heaven see the 
pranks they dare not show their husbands ; their best conscience 
is, not to leave 't undone, but keep 't unknown. 

Othello. O, curse of marriage! that we can call these delicate 
creatures ours, and not their appetites. I had rather be a toad, and 
live upon the vapors of a dungeon, than keep a corner in the thing 
I love, for others' uses." 

" Honest lago," upon possessing himself surreptitiously of his 
mistress' handkerchief, which he intends placing in the room of 
the innocent Cassio, thus talks to his noble self: 

" I will in Cassio' s lodging lose this napkin, and let him find it ; 
trifles light as air, are to the jealous, confirmation strong as proofs 
of holy writ. This may do something ; the Moor is already charged 
with my poison. 

Othello. I swear 'tis better to be much abus'd, than but to know 
a little. What sense had I of her stolen hours of lust? I saw it 
not, thought it not, it harm'd not me: I slept the next night well, 
was free and merry; I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips: he 
that is robb'd, not wanting what is stolen, let him not know't, and 
he's not robb'd at all. I had been happy if the general camp, pio- 
neers and all, had tasted her sweet body, so I had nothing known. 
— O ! now, forever, farewell to the tranquil mind ; farewell all con- 
tent ; farewell the plumed troops, and the big wars, that make 
ambition virtue ; O, farewell ! Farewell the neighing steed, and the 
shrill trump, the spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, the royal 
banner, and all quality, pride, pomp, and circumstances of glorious 



PSYCHOLOGY. 105 

war ! And O ! you mortal engines whose rude throats th' immortal 
Jove's dread clamors counterfeit, farewell ! Othello's occupation's 
gone." 

In his frenzied despair he goes on (fo lago") : 

"Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore, be sure of it: give 
me the ocular proof, or by the worth of mine eternal soul, thou hadst 
better have been born a dog, than answer my wak'd wrath. Make me 
see it ; or at least so prove it, that the probation bear no hinge, 
nor loop to hang a doubt on, or woe upon thy life !" 

After this, in company with his greatly wronged Desdemona, 
Othello nurses his jealous wrath, and accuses his innocent child- 
wife in this language : 

"This hand is moist, my lady. This argues fruitfulness and 
liberal heart. Hot, hot and moist : this hand of yours requires a 
sequester from liberty, fasting and praying, much castigation, exer- 
cise devout, for here's a young and sweating devil here that 
commonly rebels." 

This extract contains the spirit of an idea that retains a hold upon 
popular credulity up to this day — namely, that a "moist palm" 
foretells " breaking honesty." There is perhaps little foundation 
for the notion, save possibly the connection such a humidity may 
have with a vigorous and healthy circulation — that, and not the soft 
and placid hand, being the progenitor of amativeness. 

To illustrate the difficulty with which we recover those who have 
once had the jealous thorn thrust into their side, we may give the 
following conversation which occurred between Desdemona and her 
woman : 

Emilia. " Pray heaven it (Othello's inquietude) may be state 
matters, as you think, and no conception, nor jealous toy concerning 
you. 

Desdemona. Alas, the day! I never gave him cause. 

Emilia. But jealous souls will not be answer'd so ; they are not 
ever jealous for a cause, but jealous for they are jealous: 'tis a 
monster, begot upon itself, born on itself." 

lago, honest lago, then consoles his master thus: 

"Good sir, be a man; think, every bearded fellow that's but 
yok'd, may draw with you: there's millions now alive, that nightly 



106 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

lie in those improper beds, which they dare swear peculiar: your 
case is better. O ! 'tis the spite of hell, the fiend's arch-mock, to 
lip a wanton in a secure couch, and to suppose her chaste." 

Desdemona. " Mine eyes do itch ; doth that bode weeping? 

Emilia. 'Tis neither here nor there. 

Desdemona. I have heard it said so. — O ! these men, these 
men ! — Doth thou in conscience think, — tell me, Emilia, — that there 
be women who do abuse their husbands in such gross kind? 

Emilia. There be some such, no question. 

Desdemona. Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world? 

Emilia. Why, would not you ? 

Desdemona. No, by this heavenly light. 

Emilia. Nor I neither by this heavenly light ; I might do 't as 
well i' the dark. 

Desdemona. Wouldst thou do such a thing for all the world ? 

Emilia. The world is a large thing: 'tis a great price for a 
small vice. 

Desdemona. In truth, I think thou wouldst not. 

Emilia. In truth I think I should, and undo 't when I had done. 
Marry, I would not do such a thing for a joint-ring, nor for meas- 
ures of lawn, nor for gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any petty 
exhibition, but for the whole world, who would not make her hus- 
band a cuckold, to make him a monarch? I should venture pur- 
gatory for it. 

Desdemona. Beshrew me if I would do such a wrong for the 
whole world. I do not think there is any such women. 

Emilia. Yes, dozens ; but I do think it is their husband's faults 
if wives do fall. Say, that they slack their duties, and pour out 
treasures into foreign laps ; or break out into peevish jealousies, 
throwing restraint upon us ; why, we have galls, and though 
we have some grace we have some revenge. Let husbands know 
their wives have sense like them; they see and smell, and have 
their palates both for sweet and sour, as husbands have. The ills 
we do, their ills instruct us to." 

The philosophy of Emilia as to the justice of an equality in re- 
gard to the sexual relations is a common one among mankind in 
general even at this time ; and at first thought would appear to be 
founded in an unimpeachable provision of nature — "what is good 
for the gander is also good for the goose ; " but this it is thought, 



PSYCHOLOGY. 107 

is not so, either from a moral or scientific stand-point. The sexual 
appetite in the male and female are quite dissimilar ; nature has 
placed them upon different planes in this respect. While sexual 
indulgence becomes in some men the ruling passion of existence, 
in women this is scarcely ever so. While they may consummate 
the act with equal frequency, it is in a quiescent way — rather 
one of submission than active, enjoyable participation. Again, 
woman is only endowed with the capacity of procreating the 
species to a limited degree. Placing her reproductive life at 
thirty years, and allowing her to be able to reach the utmost con- 
fines of fecundity, she could not become the mother of more than 
ninety mature children — thus giving her triplets every year during 
her entire reproductive life — a thing unheard of, but yet possible. 

This ought to represent the ratio — the sum total, of her sexual 
desires and her sexual liberties. On the other hand, man is en- 
dowed with procreative capabilities only limited by his existence, 
be that twenty-five or two hundred and twenty -five years. Limit 
this period say to one hundred years as the remotest possibility in 
man at this age of the world, and let his virile life begin at fifteen ; 
allow one copulative act for every twenty-four hours of his life, and 
we find his fructifying capacity to reach over thirty-one thousand. 
We need not be accused of exaggeration in the statement of the belief 
that this number is under the limit of actuality as possessed in the 
reproductive energies of many men. Measuring, then, sexual 
licence allowable in man and woman relatively as to their repro- 
ductive capacities, we must conclude that in her domestic relations 
as wife and mother she has what is properly allotted to her, and 
when she goes outside, even to barter for monarchies and worlds, 
she is over-stepping the bounds set about her by the hand of 
nature. Physiological propriety therefore makes it repugnant for 
the youth to be coupled in marital relations with the aged of the 
other sex, while the young woman may, without transgressing any 
law fixed about her in her organization, become consort to one much 
her senior. 

An analysis of the subject from another stand-point would also 
seem to militate against the views expressed by Emilia, because it 
is an incontrovertible fact, that the procreative desire and power in 
man is, as before stated, far beyond that of woman, — and the grati- 
fication of the sexual appetite becomes in him a physiological neces- 
sity — a necessity to the maintenance of the best physical and men- 



108 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

tal interests of the individual, and therefore necessitating a wider 
scope for its indulgence. The regulations of Mormon society fully 
illustrate this principle ; whilst the teachings of common sense itself 
point unerringly to the fact that nature had a purpose in placing man 
in possession of this appetite — and for an end, as nothing was made 
in vain. If God gave man any faculty in a measure beyond that 
bestowed upon woman, the plan of creation would be a lame one 
without the means also being created whereby it is to be exercised ; 
and whilst monogamistic relations between the sexes may be best 
suited to the advance of morals, it is far from certain that it is best 
for the physical well-being of the human race. This view may not 
only be applied to man, but also to woman as well ; as it is the 
universal belief, not only among individuals and communities, but 
also among scientists, that it is the undue sexual labor imposed 
upon the wife in our modern society (monogamistic) that is rightly 
chargeable with the evident decadence of married females. This 
is claimed to be the fault of the husband — and rightly so, directly ; 
but indirectly to the erroneous constitution of the sexual relations 
of modern society — scientifically considered. The burdens im- 
posed upon the woman in this regard are a fruitful source of the 
triple crime of abortion and infanticide, which is said to be so prev- 
alent at this day. Why did this evil not prevail among the poly- 
gamic wives of the patriarchs, and why do we not hear of its prev- 
alence among the denizens of Utah? There must be a cause for it. 
'Tis over-burdened woman that seeks to evade the responsibility 
of a numerous progeny — man never. The plea, therefore, of 
Emilia, that their husbands set them the example by pouring their 
treasures in other laps, is not well founded ; though her argument 
is built upon the assumption of Rosalind, that " that woman that 
cannot make her fault her husband's accusing, let her never nurse 
her child herself, for she will breed it like a fool." 

Love will be the next subject to claim our notice. 

Speed, in the "Two Gentlemen of Verona," enlightens his 
master in regard to the symptomatology of this affection in a lucid 
and forcible manner : 

Valentine. ' ' How know j^ou that I am in love } 

Speed. Marry, by these special marks. — First, you have learn'd, 
like Sir Proteus, to wreath your arms like a malcontent ; to relish a 
love-song, like a robin-red-breast ; to walk alone, like one that hath 
the pestilence ; to sigh, like a school-boy that hath lost his A B C ; 



PSYCHOLOGY. 109 

to weep, like a young wench that hath buried her grandam ; to fast, 
like one that takes diet; to watch, like one that fears robbing; 
to speak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas. You were wont, when 
you laugh'd, to crow like a cock ; when you walk'd, to walk like 
one of the lions ; when you fasted, it was presently after dinner ; 
when you look'd sadly, it was for want of money; and now you 
are so metamorphosed with a mistress, that, when I look on you, I 
can hardly think you my master." 

Falstaff, in his letter to Lady Page, tells it in this natural style: 
"Ask me no reason why I love you; for though love uses reason 
for his physician, he admits him not for his counsellor." It would 
seem that the exalted feelings which a man possesses, and the won- 
derful things he imagines he could and would perform for the 
woman he loves, is very fitly expressed in a conversation between 
Troilus and Cressida: 

Troilus. "When we vow to weep seas, live in fire, eat rocks, 
tame tigers, think it harder for our mistress to devise imposition 
enough, than for us to undergo any difficulty imposed. This is the 
monstrosity in love, lady, — that the will is infinite and the execu- 
tion confined ; that the desire is boundless, and the act a slave to 
limit. 

Cressida. They say, all lovers swear more performance than 
they are able, and yet reserve an ability that they never perform ; 
vowing more than the performance of ten, and discharging less 
than the tenth part of one." 

Then comes the coquettish little Dolly Varden of Shakespeare, — 
Rosalind, in "As You Like It," and shows us that she can diag- 
nose a love fit as well as the best of them ; this is the way she says 
an excess of the endearing passion manifests itself : 

Bosalind. "There is none of my uncle's (love) marks upon 
you : he taught me how to know a man in love : in which cage of 
rushes, I am sure, you are not prisoner. 

Orlando. What are his marks? 

Rosalind. A lean cheek, which you have not ; a blue eye, and 
sunken, which you have not ; an unquestionable spirit, which you 
have not; a beard neglected, which you have not; but I pardon 
you for that, for, your having no beard is a younger brother's 
revenue. Then, your hose should be ungarter'd, your bonnet un- 



110 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

banded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and everything 
about you demonstrating a careless desolation. 

Orlando. Fair youth, I would I could make you believe I love. 
(It will be remembered by the reader, that Rosalind tuas disgtiised in 
the habiliments of a shepherd boy.) 

Rosalind. Love is merely a madness, and I tell you, deserves as 
well a dark house, and a whip as mad men do ; and the reason why 
they are not so punished and cured, is that the lunacy is so ordinary 
that the whippers are in love too. Yet I profess curing it by 
counsel. 

Orlando. Did you ever cure any so? 

Rosalind. Yes, one ; and in this manner. He was to imagine me 
his love, his mistress, and I set him every day to woo me: at which 
time would I, being but a moonish youth, grieve, be effeminate, 
changeable, longing, and liking ; proud, fantastical, apish, shal- 
low, inconstant, full of tears, full of smiles ; for every passion 
something, and for no passion truly anything, as boys and women 
are, for most part, cattle of this color : would now like him, now 
loathe him ; then entertain him, then forswear him ; now weep for 
him, then spit at him ; that I drave my suitor from his mad humor 
of love, to a loving humor of madness ; and thus I cured him ; and 
this way will I take upon me to wash your liver as clean as a sound 
sheep's heart, that there shall not be one spot of love in 't. 

Orlando. I would not be cured, youth." 

After a long acquaintance, in which Orlando courts the shepherd 
boy, the young flirt tells him it is " no use talking " — she cannot 
marry him ; and in his infatuation he says " then in mine own per- 
son I die." She responds, " No, faith, die by attorney. The poor 
world is nearly six thousand years old, and in all that time there 
was not any man died in his own person, — videlicet, in a love 
cause." 9 

In the same comedy we have another description of the " symp- 
toms" which is characteristic of the tender passion. It is in the 
scene between Silvius and Phebe, and runs thus : 

Corine. (To Rosalind and Celia.) "If you will see a pageant 
truly play'd, between the pale complexion of true love and the red 
glow of scorn and proud disdain, go hence a little, and I shall con- 
duct you, if you will mark it. 

Rosalind. O ! come, let us remove ; the sight of lovers feedeth 
those in love." 



PSYCHOLOGY. Ill 

Who, save Shakespeare, ever noted the '■'■pale" complexion of 
true love? Perhaps the " red glow of scorn and proud disdain" 
had been observed by many a languishing swain long, long before, 
but the other observation is only original as it is true. 

In "Hamlet," A. ii., S. i., Ophelia tells of Hamlet's spasm in 
this characteristic language : 

Ophelia. " Alas, my lord, I have been so affrighted! 

Polonius. With what, in the name of God ? 

Ophelia. My lord, as I was sewing in my chamber. Lord Ham- 
let, — with his doublet all unbrac'd; no hat upon his head; his 
stockings foul'd, ungarter'd, and down-gyved to his ankles ; pale 
as his shirt ; his knees knocking each other, and with a look so 
piteous in purport, as if he had been loosed out of hell, to speak 
of horrors, — he comes before me. 

Polonius. Mad for thy love? 

Ophelia. My lord, I do not know ; but, truly, I do fear it. 

Polonius. What said he ? 

Ophelia. He took me by the wrist, and held me hard ; then goes 
he to the length of all his arm, and with his other hand thus o'er 
his brow, he falls to such perusal of my face, as he would draw it. 
Long stay'd he so ; at last, a little shaking of mine arm, and thrice 
his head thus waving up and down, — he rais'd a sigh so piteous and 
profound, that it did seem to shatter all his bulk and end his being. 
That done, he lets me go, and with his head over his shoulder 
turn'd, he seem'd to find his way without his eyes, — for out o' doors 
he went without their help. 

Polonius. Come, go with me : I will seek the king : this is the 
very ecstasy of love ; whose violent property foredoes itself, and 
leads the will to desperate undertakings, as oft as any passion 
under heaven, that does afflict our natures." 

In this extract we again have reiterated the observation of the 
pale face of desperate love, and also the repetition of the assertion 
that Hamlet had ecstasy — a matter noted specially in the earlier 
portion of this chapter. In this connexion even, we find how ad- 
mirably Shakespeare keeps to his ideas — the idea in this instance, 
that the eccentricities of Hamlet are due to perturbed intellection. 
Polonius evidently feared, what would be likely to happen now, 
were one of our "blooded" youths placed in Hamlet's predica- 
ment ; viz. — draw his little revolver and murder either Ophelia her- 



112 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

self, or her dear mother, or both, and then make an unsuccessful 
attempt upon his own valuable existence. 

We have greatly improved upon the plan of putting one's head 
over the shoulder, and walking us sideways out of the parlor. 

Poor Ophelia had acted the wiser part had she made the matter 
right then and there, rather than to have pined over the matter 
later, — and then, to end it, bury her fair form in the dark waters be- 
neath the willows. Woman in love affairs has been an enigma from 
the first dawn of the creation ; and if God Himself understands 
her. He surely guards His knowledge carefully as one of His 
inscrutable secrets. 

Cymbeline admits the folly of his choice indirectly, in these 
words: "Mine eyes were not at fault, for she was beautiful; nor 
mine ears, that heard her flattery ; nor mine heart, that thought 
her like her seeming: it had been vicious to have mistrusted her," — 
all of which plainly tells that size, age and royalty have no pro- 
tection from the machinations of designing women any more than 
do the young and unwary ; neither have they any more discretion 
in judging of her character, though experience may be serviceable 
to them in all things else. 

The next subject demanding notice is Lust, the darkest and most 
degrading passion of the human heart. 

" Say unto wisdom, thou art my sister; and call understanding 
thy kinswoman : that they may keep thee from the strange woman, 
from the stranger which flattereth with her words. For at the win- 
dow of my house I looked through my casement, and beheld among 
the simple ones, I discerned among the youths a young man void 
of understanding, passing through the street near her corner ; and 
he went the way to her house, in the twilight, in the evening, in the 
black and dark night: and, behold, there met him a woman with 
the attire of a harlot, and subtile of heart. (She is loud and stub- 
born ; her feet abide not in her house : now she is without, now in 
the streets, and lieth in wait at every corner.) 

So she caught him, and kissed him, and with an impudent face 
said unto him, I have peace offerings with me ; this day have I paid 
my vows. Therefore came I forth to meet thee, diligently to seek 
thy face, and I have found thee. I have decked my bed with 
coverings of tapestry, with carved works, with fine linen of Egypt. 
I have perfumed my bed with myrrh, aloes and cinnamon. Come, 



PSYCHOLOGY. 113 

let us take our fill of love until the morning : let us solace ourselves 
with loves. For the goodman is not at home, he is gone a long 
journey : he hath taken a bag of money with him, and will come 
home at the day appointed. With her much fair speech she caused 
him to yield, with the flattering of her lips she forced him. He 
goeth after her straightway, as an ox goeth to the slaughter, or as a 
fool to the correction of the stocks ; till a dart strike through his 
liver ; as a bird hasteth to the snare, and knoweth not that it is for 
his life." 

My reader, this is not from Shakespeare, but it illustrates very 
beautifully the condition of things wherein lust makes the chief 
ingredient. 

Shakespeare himself, however, declares that "lust is as near to 
murder as flame is to smoke." 

Lucio, the fantastic, in " Measure for Measure," in conversation 
with the duke relative to the severity with which Angelo, the deputy, 
was executing the laws against lewdness, unbosoms himself of his 
ideas in this wise : 

"This ungenitur'd agent will unpeople the province with con- 
tinency ; sparrows must not build in his house-eaves, because they 
are lecherous. The duke yet would have dark deeds, darkly an- 
swer'd; he would never bring them to light: would he were re- 
turn'd! Marry, this Claudio is condemned for untrussing. Fare 
well, good friar ; yet, and I say to thee, he would mouth with a 
beggar, though she smelt brown-bread and garlic." 

The term "untrussing" used here, perhaps simply means that 
he had relieved himself of his amatory excitement by the copulative 
act, or else to relieving himself of his " doublet and hose," pre- 
paratory to such an encounter. He might certainly have been the 
victim of a hernial protusion, requiring the use of the surgical 
appliance implied in the language, — and this would be made the 
more possible when we remember that it is asserted by good author- 
ity that one man in every five has the malady to a greater or less 
extent. 

In "All's "Well that Ends "Well," Bertram, in his lascivious in- 
trigue with Diana, the widow's daughter, pleads his case in these 
terms : "Be not so holy cruel : love is holy, and my integrity ne'er 
knew the crafts that you do charge me with. Stand no more off, 
but give thyself unto my sick desires, who then recover." And in 



114 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

*'The Winter's Tale," the old Shepherd deprecates the procreative 
appetite in this way: " I would there were no age between ten and 
twenty-three, or that youth sleep out the rest, for there is nothing in 
the between but getting wenches with child." The Shepherd falls 
into the error of placing the power of procreation at a much earlier 
age in the male, than the others of Shakespeare's characters do 
in the female. It is the universally received opinion that the human 
female acquires the virile power at an age one or two years earlier 
than the male ; but it is also conceded that she loses it at a period 
at least many years before her male companion, if, indeed, he ever 
does so. It is probable, however, that it was not intended that the 
observation of the old Shepherd was to be regarded from a scientific 
stand-point, but that it was purposely made a little on the extreme 
the better to illustrate the idea of the lecherous tendency in the 
youth of the age in which it was written. 

There has, perhaps, from time immemorial, been an idea preva- 
lent among the credulous portion of mankind, that there are cer- 
tain drugs, which, when swallowed, will cause the person to form 
an amorous desire and attachment for the person who thus admin- 
isters them. This love specific is often sought from doctors and 
apothecaries by ignorant and unsopisticated swains, under the name 
of "love powders," and the delusion is often pandered to by the 
unprincipled, through a motive of pecuniary gain. Brabantio sus- 
pected that Othello had practiced some nefarious art of this charac- 
ter upon Desdemona, as will be fully shown in the following 
passage : 

Brabantio. "O, thou foul thief! where hast thou stowed my 
daughter? Damn'd as thou art, thou hast enchanted her; for I'll 
refer me to all things of sense, if she was not in chains of magic 
bound, whether a maid so tender, fair'^ and happy would ever run 
from guardage to the sooty bosom of such a thing as thou ; thou 
hast practiced on her with foul charms, abused her youth with 
drugs or minerals that weaken motion. — I, therefore, apprehend 
thee for an abuser of the world, a practiser of arts inhibited, and 
out of warrant. My daughter ! Oh, my daughter ! 

Senator. Dead? 

Brabantio. Ay, to me ; she is abused, stolen from me, and cor- 
rupted by spells and medicines bought of mountebanks. 

Othello. I will a round unvarnished tale deliver of my whole 



PSYCHOLOGY. 115 

course of love ; what drugs, what charms, what conjuration, and 
what mighty magic, I won his daugliter with. 

Brabantio. I vouch again, that witli some mixture i^owerful o'er 
the blood, or with some dram conjur'd to this effect, he wrought upon 
her ; " and "If the rascal have not given me medicines to make me 
love him, I'll be hanged," taken from Falstaff, perhaps has its origin 
in the same perverted idea. There are some remedies certainly, and 
some special local irritations which act as provocatives to venereal 
appetite ; but none which act in any way to produce the sentiment 
of affection. That not only the ignorant, but persons in the high- 
est ranks of life, among the nations of antiquity, believed in " love- 
drinks" we have abundant evidence. Ovid and other early writers 
described these drinks as sometimes affecting the mind and causing 
death. Lucullus, a celebrated Roman general, was said to have 
died thus ; and Lucretius, a noted Roman poet, was said to have 
written one of his most celebrated productions in intervals of de- 
lirium occasioned by a "love-drink." To such an extent was this 
custom of administering remedies of power through the erroneous 
notion of their erotic powers, that rigid legal enactments were at 
length resorted to in some countries for its suppression. The reme- 
dies in use for this purpose were as numerous and often of as dis- 
gusting a nature as the Chinese materia medica of to-day. The 
delusion held large popular sway until about the middle of the 
seventeenth century, at which time we find Van Helmont propaga- 
ting such doctrine as this: "I know a plant, which if you rub in 
the hand until it becomes warm, and then take the hand of another 
and hold it until it also becomes warm, that person will forthwith 
become stimulated with love for you and continue so for several 
days." 

Though, as before suggested, people of sound sense of to-day 
pay no attention to such nonsense as "love- powders," "love- 
drinks," or "philters," yet there are very many persons in our 
enlightened land who yet believe in their existence, as almost every 
physician can attest. Following is a verbatim copy of a letter re- 
ceived by the writer from a young lady, only a few days ago : 

" , Iowa, June 11, 1883. 

Sir: — I take this opportunity (which is to be strictly confiden- 
tial), from seeing your card in the paper, to write to you. I am the 
daughter of a once wealthy man, who has failed. In the days of our 



116 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN, 

riches I kept company with a well-to-do young man who now refuses 
to comply with our former engagement, and if you will send me 
something to give him (which I know you can), I will pay you 
liberally after I have him under my control. You please send it to 
me and you will never regret it, as I will see you well paid. 

Minnie Marshall." 

The name here of course is fictitious, but the letter is genuine 
and has a genuine signature. I introduce it to show that while 
people may possess intelligence enough to write a letter, the com- 
position, chirography, orthography, punctuation, etc., of which 
points to the more than ordinary intelligence of the writer, yet we 
find her making a very foolish request — one not at all susceptible of 
fulfillment — in real earnest. 

To prove that venereal desire is not love, "Timon of Athens" 
may be quoted. Here is his conversation with Timandra : " Be a 
whore still! they love thee not that use thee: give them diseases, 
leaving with thee their lust;" then he resumes the talk in this 
strain, — (I have gold) "enough to make a whore forswear her 
trade, and to make whores abhorr'd ; hold up, you sluts, joxxr 
aprons mountaut ; you are not oathable, ^although I know you'll 
swear, — speak your oaths, I'll trust to your conditions ; be whores 
still, and he whose pious breath seeks to convert you, be strong in 
whore, allure him, burn him up ; let your close fire predominate 
his smoke, and be no turncoats." But the most trite passage, 
descriptive of the morbid condition of the mind and morals which 
leads to the embrace of lewdness, is found in the story of the ghost 
of Hamlet's murdered father; he speaks of his brother and his 
queen. "Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, with witch- 
craft of his wit, with traitorous gifts, (O wicked wit and gifts that 
have the power to seduce ! ) won to his shameful lust the will of my 
most seeming virtuous queen. O, Hamlet, what a falling-off was 
there! From me, whose love was of that dignity, that it went hand 
in hand even with the vow I made to her in marriage, and to decline 
upon a wretch, whose natural gifts were poor to those of mine ! But 
Virtue, as it never will be moved, though Lewdness court it in the 
shape of heaven, so Lust, though to a radiant angel link'd, will sate 
itself in a celestial bed, and prey on garbage." This is the counter- 
part to occurrences which fall under our observation in the social 
world, every day, and strange as it is true. This "garbage" on 
which so many men and women prey is a source of greater evil to 



PSYCHOLOGY. 117 

mankind, than all the seething pools of physical corruption com- 
bined ; the contagion of small-pox, cholera, and the plague united, 
are harmless in comparison as the zephyr of a summer's morning. 

King Lear. ' ' What hast thou been ? 

Edgar, A serving-man, proud in heart and mind; that curl'd 
my hair, wore gloves in my cap, served the lust of my mistress' 
heart, and did the act of darkness with her ; swore as many oaths 
as I spake words, and broke them in the sweet face of heaven ; 
one, that slept in the contriving of lust, and waked to do it. Wine 
lov'd I deeply ; dice dearly ; and in woman, out-paramoured the 
Turk : false of heart, light of ear, bloody of hand ; hog in sloth, 
fox in stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey. 
Let not the creakipg of shoes, nor the rustling of silks betray 
your poor heart to woman : keep thy foot out of brothels, thy hand 
out of plackets, and defy the foul fiend. The gods are just, and 
of our pleasant vices make instruments to plague us:" and refer- 
ring to his father, the same fellow says, "the dark and vicious 
place where thee he got, cost him his eyes." Edmund was the 
bastard son of old Gloster, "who in the lusty stealth of nature 
took more composition and fierce quality, than doth within a dull, 
stale, tired bed, go to the creating a whole tribe of fops, got 'tween 
sleep and wake." The inference might naturally arise that old 
Gloster got gonorrhoeal ophthalmia in the place where he got that 
bastard son, were we to give weight to the clear significance of the 
language in the last line of the extract ; but it is not so, as his eyes 
were torn out by the cruelty of Regan and Cornwall, as is seen in 
Lear, A. iii., S. vii. 

lago gives us the signs of " breaking honesty" in this way; he 
is speaking to Roderigo in regard to Desdemona. "Didst thou not 
see her paddle with the palm of his hand? didst not mark that? 

Roderigo. Yes, that I did ; But that was but courtesy. 

lago. Lechery, by this hand ; an index, an obscure prologue to 
the history of lust and foul thoughts. They met so near with their 
lips, that their breaths embraced together." O, the murderous 
liar! In "Antony and Cleopatra," it is said, "Nay, if an oily 
palm be not a fruitful prognostication, I cannot scratch mine ear," 
— a quotation referred to in a preceding page of this chapter, when 
relating the scene between Othello and Desdemona, and of which 
enough is there written. The writer has sometimes concluded that 



118 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

those frigid, pale, hard-hearted specimens of femininity with which 
we sometimes meet, and who are barren, — sterile as they are cold, 
prevent conception by the very perversity of their wills. Indeed, 
I was in conversation with a married lady only a short time ago, 
upon the subject of the sterile condition, who informed me that an 
intelligent lady friend of her own had assured her that by an effort 
of the will alone, she could prevent conception in her own person 
with the most unerring certainty. "We are all aware, no doubt, of 
the very powerful effects mental conditions have over the power of 
generation. Who, for example, ever knew conception to follow a 
rape? Who has not noted the lack of fruitfulness on the part of the 
people during great and depressing calamities? 

In Cymbeline, after Posthumus supposed he had los* the wager 
made with lachimo in regard to his wife's constancy, he gives his 
apostasy in the following manner : 

"Is there no way for man to be, but women must be half work- 
ers? We are all bastards; and that most venerable man, which I 
did call my father, was I know not where when I was stamped ; 
some coiner with his tools made me a counterfeit : yet my mother 
seemed the Dian of that time ; so doth my wife the nonpareil 
of this. — O vengeance, vengeance! Me of my lawful pleasure she 
restrained, and pray'd me often forbearance; did it with a pu- 
dency so rosy, the sweet view on't might well have warm'd old 
Saturn ; that I thought her as chaste as unsunn'd snow : — O, all the 
devils! — This yellow lachimo, in an hour, — was't not? — or less, — at 
first; perchance he spoke not, but, like a full-acorn'd boar, a 
foaming one, cry'd 'Oh!' and mounted; found no opposition but 
what he look'd for should oppose, and she should from encounter 
guard. Could I find out the woman's part in me ! For there's no 
motion that tends to vice in man, but I affirm it is the woman's 
part: be it lying, note it, the woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, 
hers ; lust and rank thoughts, her, hers ; revenge, hers ; ambitions, 
coveting, change of prides, disdain, nice longings, slanders, muta- 
bility, all faults that maybe nam'd; nay, that hell knows, why, 
hers, in part, or all ; but rather, all ; for even to vice they are not 
constant, but are changing still one vice but of a minute old, for 
one not half so old as that." 

There is one point in the foregoing extract that we may say one 
word in comment upon, and that is in regard to the wish on the 



PSYCHOLOGY. 119 

part of the beauteous wife of Posthumus to abstain from copula- 
tion. This has been a source of disquietude in the marital relation 
no doubt many thousands of times since the world began — not so 
often perhaps from a lack of desire on the part of the wife as from 
an excruciating physical suffering — produced by a cause undis- 
coverable and irremediable by the parties themselves, and a mys- 
tery, many times, even to the medical profession until very lately. 
I have reference to the pain given to the female during the act of 
coitus by the presence of vaginismus, fissure of the osteum vagina, 
vaginitis, cervicitis, metritis, oophoritis, pelvic cellulitis, vulvar 
abscess, urethral caruncle, etc., with numerous other causes, which 
are the source of dyspareunia, and often lead to the most intense 
suffering on the part of the female during the sexual congress. 
Women submit to very much more physical pain from this source 
than is known of except by those whose business it is to alleviate 
as much as may be the ills incident to the condition. It is quite 
likely that Posthumus in the above extract had no adequate con- 
ception of the real motives which induced his wife to plead for 
forbearance ; as women will often bear the most excruciating tor- 
ment in this way rather than give grounds (as they doubtless 
imagine) of having themselves suspected of sexual imperfection. 
They will freely disclose all, perhaps, to the physician. Women 
are, as a general proposition, much more frank and sensible in this 
way than men. 

As in the case quoted, wives are sometimes made the victims of 
false accusations by the ignorant and designing when laboring 
under any form of these maladies, and there is none who can or 
will more willingly or to her greater profit sympathize with her 
than her physician, if he be a gentleman. 

Mrs. Ford. "How shall I be revenged on him? I think, the 
best way were to entertain him with hope, till the wicked fire of 
lust have melted him in his own grease. — Did you ever hear the 
like? 

Mrs. Page. To thy great comfort in this mystery of ill opinions, 
here's the twin brother of thy letter. But, let thine inherit first; 
for, I protest, mine never shall ; I will find you twenty lascivious 
turtles, ere one chaste man." This may be found in "Merry Wives 
of Windsor," whilst the term "when my lust has dined," may be 
found as the expression of the brutal Cloten in " Cymbeline." All 
of which is "respectfully submitted." 



120 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

Shakespeare makes Hotspur describe the physiognomic expres- 
sion of anger thus: "Then his cheek looked pale, and on my face 
he turned an eye of death;" whilst to the picture is added, "he 
hangs the lip at something," in "Troilus and Cressida," and "why 
gnaw you so your nether lip," in "Othello." The first and last 
of these tell of intense anger, and a state of mind portentous of 
danger to he who provokes it ; whilst the other tells of a moody 
disposition, which may be appeased by conciliation. 

In moderate anger the color of the cheeks is somewhat hightened 
and the eyes brighten ; while in rage, which is but a greater degree 
of anger, the face may become deadly pale, the voice become husky 
and articulation imperfect, while the body at the same time may 
tremble from head to foot. This tremulousness is not however the 
result of fear or cowardice. 

Of envy he calls it "lean-faced," and in an another place he says 
"no black envy shall make my grave," while yet in another place 
he uses the line " above pale envy's threatening reach," — in all of 
which is shown the acuteness of his observation or else his wonder- 
ful intuition. 



CHAPTER III 



NEUROLOGY. 



Epilepsy— Falling Sickness — " Rub him about the temples "—Playing 
" wolf " — The prototype of Othello — " What, did Csesar swoon? " — The epi- 
leptic zone — The trade-mark and "plug" hat — Mistaken diagnosis — This 
apoplexy will certain be his end — Gad's Hill and Sir John — I talk not of 
his majesty — It is a kind of deafness — Ci'oups — Drowning as a consequence 
of popular delusion — The mad-stone and its votaries — Not known by medi- 
cal men— The treatment as good as any — "John Jones, of Albany "—Odon- 
tology — Set up the bloody flag against all patience — The nurse's head-ache — 
"Let me but bind it hard " — Varieties of the malady — Sciatica— Syphilis as 
a complication — Gout— Plays the rogue with my great toe — Anorexia — Pa- 
ralysis — " My firm nerves shall never tremble." 

Under the heading of this chapter it is proposed to group every- 
thing found in Shakespeare pertaining to the nervous system, 
whether physiological or pathological in its nature. Since looking 
over our notes upon the subject, we find only sufficient matter to 
make a very brief article ; — and such as it is, we present below : 

"We have epilepsy spoken of twice, — directly in the case of 
Othello ; and, under the name of "falling sickness " in the case of 
Cffisar, who fell down during his harangue to the Roman populace. 

Othello was greatly moved at the statements of lago as to the 
faithlessness of Desdemona. The occurrence is thus stated: — 

lago. " My lord is fallen into an epilepsy: this is his second 
fit ; he had one yesterday. 

Cassio. Rub him about the temples. 

lago. No, forbear. The lethargy must have his quiet course, 
if not he foams at mouth ; and by and by, break out to savage 
madness. Look, he stirs : do you withdraw yourself a little while ; 
he will recover straight." 

"We know that any emotional disturbance, if great, is often an 
excitant in the production of epileptiform maladies ; — exciting 

121 



122 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHTSICIAN. 

attacks not only in those who have once had them, but also being 
in themselves sufficient to set up the morbid phenomena in those 
previously to all appearances in good health : thus, — I knew a boy 
who had always been hearty, but got epilepsy of the most con- 
firmed type from fright occasioned by a waggish old man playing 
"wolf" on him; and a man, the prototype of Othello, who sud- 
denly fell down in an epileptic convulsion through sympathy for 
his wife, who was in the throes of child-birth, under my care; and 
only yesterday, whilst listening to the recitals of a father in regard 
to an epileptic child, he assured me that the least mental or physical 
excitement proved of the greatest danger to him. It has been 
witnessed in but the above single instance by the writer in the 
negro race. 
In "Julius Csesar " we find a paragraph which reads in this way: 

Cassius. " But, soft, I pray you ; what! did Csesar swoon? 

Casca. He fell down in the market-place, and foamed at the 
mouth, and was speechless. 

Brutus. 'Tis very like he had the ' falling sickness ;' what said 
he when he came unto himself? 

Casca. Before he fell down, when he perceiv'd the common herd 
was glad he refused the crown, he pluck'd me ope his doublet, and 
offered them his throat to cut ; — and so he fell down." 

This was a genuine epileptic seizure no doubt, for Csesar speedily 
recovered, and went about his apology in these words : and if he 
had "done or said anything amiss, he desired their worships to 
think it was his infirmity." 

This Csesar was a schemer of the first water, and he could well 
have worked upon the sympathies of his audience through the me- 
dium of a bit of Castile soap, as do some of our lawyers with 
capsicum. To be ruler of an empire is only to be versed in trivial 
chicanery. The malady was, however, not assumed in this in- 
stance. 

These pictures of epilepsy, though terse, are yet very well 
drawn, — even a medical pen well skilled in portraiture could not do 
it better in the same number of words. 

The frequent occurrence of the seizures of epilepsy had been 
well marked by Shakspeare. "He had one yesterday" is con- 
clusive evidence that the phenomena belonging to the malady had 
impressed his observation so as to enable him to grasp and describe 



NEUROLOGY. 123 

its salient features ; and again, behold the prophetic declaration as 
to the location of the point where the disease had its origin (if it 
may be so termed): " Rub Mm about the temples.'" Prophetically 
upon the very site of the epileptic zone of the present day, though 
unfortunately the rubbing at that point might be the means of pro- 
ducing rather than of removing the malady. 

The term "falling sickness" is yet vernacular among the com- 
mon people, and appears to have been plebian even in the days of 
Cffisar. It is so called of course from the fact of persons thus 
afflicted falling suddenly, as if shot or struck down ; and in the 
knowledge of this fact a charlatan and neighbor of my own has 
fabricated a trade-mark — a man falling backwards, hands out- 
stretched, plug-hat preceding him in his descent, representing 
indeed very forcibly an idea. Out of this the author (if such he 
really is) has made a fortune, and spent it also. 

In "King Lear," A. ii., S. ii., we also find the term " epileptic 
visaged," as applied by Kent to one of the attendants of the king's 
daughters, thus showing that the peculiar physiognomic expression 
common to persons thus afflicted did not escape the observation of 
the acute eye of Shakespeare. I am of the opinion that this dull 
and apathetic expression of the countenance is now much more 
marked in the epileptic than formerly, and is due, no doubt, 
mainly to the excessive use of the bromides. 

In Henry IV., A. iv., S. iv., there is a description of the malady 
of which the king was suffering, wherein the diagnosis of apoplexy 
was made : 

King. "I should rejoice now at this happy news, and now my 
sight fails, and my brain is giddy. — O me, come near me ; now I 
am much ill. (He falls bach.) 

Prince Humphrey. Comfort, your majesty! 

Clarence. O my royal father ! 

Westmorela7id. My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself : look up ! 

Warwick. Be patient, princes : you do know these fits are with 
his royal highness very ordinary. Stand from him, give him air. 
He'll straight be well. 

Clarence. No, no ; he cannot long hold out these pangs. 
Th' incessant care and labor of his mind hath wrought the mure, 
that should confine it in, so thin that life looks through and will 
break out." 



124 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

Prince Humphrey and Clarence are talking to themselves in re- 
gard to their father's condition, when Warwick thus addresses them : 

" Speak lower, princes, for the king recovers. 

Prince Humphrey. This apoplexy will, certain, be his end. 

King. I pray you, take me up, and bear me hence into some 
other chamber : softly, pray. (His attendants do as desired.) Let 
there be no noise made, my gentle friends ; unless some dull and 
favorable hand will whisper music to my weary spirit. 

Warwick. Call for the music in the other room. 

King. Set me the crown upon my pillow here. 

Clarence. His eye is hollow, — and he changes much. 

Warwick. Less noise, less noise ! 

Enter Prince Henry. How doth the king ? 

Prince HumpJirey. Exceeding ill. 

Warioick. Not so much noise, my lords. — Sweet princes, speak 
low, the king, your father, is disposed to sleep." 

It seems probable from a close scrutiny of the details of this case, 
that there was a mistake in the diagnosis ; the history of its symp- 
tomatology would go as near to making it one of epilepsy perhaps 
as of apoplexy; — the frequency of the occurrence of his "spells," 
his rapid recovery, the "wearied spirit," his subsequent falling 
into slumber, his speedy recovery of consciousness, etc., etc., all 
point to that fact, and all contradict the notion of apoplexy. And 
the idea is strengthened as to the error, at the conclusion of his 
life, where he is so clearly conscious as to say, " More would I, but 
my lungs are wasted so, that strength of speech is utterly denied 
me." In cases of apoplexy of such severity as to threaten speedy 
death the coma is too profound to admit of conscious utterances 
like these, and he probably had no pulmonary lesion, and was only 
suffering from simple prostration incident to the nervous malady. 

After the ludicrous robbery at Gadshill, in which Falstaff and 
"Hal" figured so noticeably, "Sir John" was brought to account 
for it; the following " war of words" ensued upon the occasion 
between the knight and Chief-Justice : 

Falstaff. "An't please your lordship, I hear his majesty is re- 
turned with some discomfort from Wales. 

Chief- Justice. I talk not of his majesty. — You would not come 
when I sent for you. 



NEUROLOGY. 125 

Falstaff. And I hear, moreover, his highness is fallen into this 
same whoreson apoplexy. 

Chief-Justice. Well, heaven mend him. I pray you, let me 
speak with you. 

Falstaff. This apoplexy is, as I take it, a kind of lethargy, an't 
please your lordship ; a kind o' sleeping in the blood, a whoreson 
tingling. 

Chief- Justice. What tell you me of it? be it as it is. 

Falstaff. It had its original from much grief; from study, and 
perturbation of the brain ; I have read the cause of its effects in 
Galen : it is a kind of deafness. 

Chief-Justice. I think you are fallen into the disease, for you 
hear -not what I say to you. 

Falstaff. Very well, my lord, very well ; rather, an't please you, 
it is the disease of not listening, the malady that I am troubled 
withal." 

Shakespeare has here displayed the commendable and rare faculty 
of not contradicting himself — calling it in the mouth of Falstaff 
apoplexy, also, as the malady of which Henry the Fourth was the 
victim. It will be noted by the reader that Hal, the companion of 
Sir John Falstaff, was the successor of his father as ruler of Brit- 
ain and ascended the throne as Henry the Fifth. There is not more 
laughable material found in the writings of any writer in any lan- 
guage than is found in Shakespeare in the relations between Hal 
and Sir John. 

That very unsatisfactory term, "cramp," is used three times in 
"The Tempest" — each time, save one, as a punishment to the 
sour-visaged nondescript, Calaban; in the other, Stephano com- 
plains of being not himself, but a " cramp," at the conclusion of his 
debauch, after the shipwreck. In "As You Like It," Rosalind, in 
discoursing on the improbabilities of a man's dying in a love-cause, 
relates a historic reminiscence which illustrates well an idea yet 
largely prevalent among mankind, namely — that " cramp " is a very 
fruitful source of danger to those who go into deep water ; she 
says, " Leander, he would have lived many a fair year, though Hero 
had turned nun, if it had not been for a hot midsummer night ; for, 
good youth, he went but forth to wash himself in the Hellespont, 
and being taken with the cramp, was drowned." Why the notion 
prevails so generally, that "cramp" is at the bottom of all these 



126 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

accidents, has long been a najj-stery to me ; I have never yet seen a 
person who had been attacked thus whilst in water, nor have I con- 
versed with a person who has. Why do we not see persons who get 
cramp in shallow water, in a shower-bath, etc., and who come out 
to tell the story? If all the cases we read of in the public prints 
are really the result of a mishap of that nature, then "aquatic 
cramp" is as surely fatal as fully established rabies. It will be 
seen, therefore, that though danger from this source has age to 
lend plausibility and dignity to its pretensions, — yet it really de- 
serves a place side by side with the wide-spread mad-stone delusions- 
It is the proper province of medical men on all occasions to dis- 
abuse the public mind of these absurdities, because life is often sac- 
rificed at the shrine of these stupid errors. This is particularly so 
with the substance which the vulgar know as a mad-stone, — valuable 
time being wasted in its application which ought to be employed in 
calling a surgeon. It is singular in the extreme to note the hold this 
notion has upon the public mind ; and that too upon those whose na- 
tive intellect ought to be a guarantee of better things ; — read the fol- 
lowing from a leading New York Journal, July 3d, 18 — . "With 
this hot weather, and mad dogs, comes the usual complement of 
wonderful stories of extraordinary cures of hydrophobia by means 
of mad-stones. In many parts of the country, especially in the West 
and South, the majority of the people have implicit confidence in 
the efficacy of these stones in counteracting the effects of wounds 
inflicted by rabid animals. In some families, stones of this char- 
acter have been possessed for a great number of years, and have 
acquired a wide-spread local celebrity. Every summer numerous 
accounts are published of cures wrought by mad-stones, and these 
generally give the names of the persons cured, with other circum- 
stances which go to show that the persons printing the accounts 
have entire faith in the authenticity of the cases which they chroni- 
cle. One of the most celebrated of these stones is owned by a 
Mrs. Chastria, living near Hodgenville, Kentucky. She calls it a 
Chinese stone. It is said that when applied to a person bitten by 
a mad dog, or poisonous snake, this stone adheres so firmly that it 
cannot be drawn off without considerable effort, until it has ab- 
sorbed all the poison from the wound. This stone is reported to 
have performed many cures, the last being that of a Miss Prather, 
to whom it was applied while she was in a state of raging madness. 
It immediately stuck fast, where it remained four days, when it 



NEUROLOGY. 127 

dropped off, and the patient recovered. Stories of a like nature 
are told of mad-stones in various parts of the country." 

Now, though the foregoing quotation is from one of the leading 
New York weeklies, not one word is said by the writer to tell us 
that he too is not a believer in this mad-stone delusion. If there 
really existed a remedy so potent for good in this terrible malady, 
why should not a portion of it, at least, be found in the hands of 
the medical profession? How happens it that articles of such incal- 
culable value should always happen to be the property of some 
dilapidated old crone in some immensely obscure corner of the 
earth? "Who ever met a regular physician who possessed a mad- 
stone, or had beheld wonders performed by them? It is time intel- 
ligent people, at least, should realize the fact that there is no such a 
thing in existence as the thing reputed a mad-stone. No doubt but 
there are many things called such, as for instance a bit of brick-bat, 
a lump of hardened clay, chalk, or a bit of calcined bone, etc., — 
one as good as the other so long as the delusion is maintained. 
After all, however, as disgusting as the popular ignorance is in the 
minds of reflecting persons, — especially so to professional men, it 
may have a share of bliss in it, — because when we reflect that the 
mind of him who may be bitten by a dog, — mad, or one supposed 
to be mad, may by the application of one of these substances be 
rendered satisfied as to his future security — that certainly is a 
boon to the nineteen that may be bitten by real rabid animals 
but who never have symptoms of rabies, whilst the twentieth one, 
who has it applied, dies ; — just the termination of these cases as 
when left entirely to nature. Viewing it then in this way, we 
may not consider it such bad treatment after all, as neither med- 
icine nor surgery could make a better exhibit in a malady so 
dreadful. To be sure surgical attention, timely applied, might 
have saved the one fatal case ; but considering the uncertainties of 
whether even the most scientific assistance has ever obviated death 
in rabies, it is questionable whether intense expectancy and place- 
bos (as the mad-stone) in the conduct of these cases is not, in the 
present state of our knowledge, about as good a course as any; 
though one can hardly forbear wishing to be rid of the ignorance 
which persists in the belief in their reality — more so when it is of 
that presumptuous kind which prompted the fellow to leave this 
inscription on my office slate, a short time ago: "Doctor, don't 
you want to buy a mad-stone? John Jones, Albany, Mo." 



128 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

I beg the reader's pardon for this long irrelevancy, but the sub- 
ject forced itself upon me in this connection, and it was thought 
the space might not be filled with more useful matter. Odontalgia 
is spoken of under the common term "toothache" twice or more 
in " Much Ado About Nothing," — once as a " raging tooth," in 
A. iii., S. iii., Othello, — and in " Cymbeline " is repeated the old 
adage that " he that sleeps feels not the toothache." And that 
popular complaint, palpitation, which often causes so great an 
alarm and so little harm, among the uninform'd, is noticed as a 
coincidence of jealousy in the case of Leontes. He is so particular 
in regard to the friendship between his queen and friend, that he 
thinks that to "mingl^ friendships far is to mingle bloods," and he 
gets tremor cordis accordingly; his heart danced, but "not for 
joy — not joy." He is not the only man, poor soul, whose heart has 
been made to "palpitate" by the actions of a flirt. Of colic, we 
find the following in Coriolanus ; it is a conversation between 
Menenius and Brutus, — the latter being one of the " tribunes of 
the people:" 

Brutus. " Come, sir, come ; we know you well enough. 

Menenius. You know neither me, yourselves, nor anything. 
When you are hearing a matter between party and party, if you 
chance to be pinched with the colic, you make faces like mummers, 
set up the bloody flag against all patience, and in roaring for a 
chamber-pot dismiss the controversy." 

This was said to illustrate the want of stability in a Roman noble- 
man, — if such a character as a nobleman could exist in a republic, 
which I believe Rome was at that time ; and shows the contempt 
with which they view'd physical sufferings. 

In regard to cephalalgia, the good old nurse of Juliet gives us 
this: "What a head have I; lord, how it aches: it beats as it 
would fall in twenty pieces. My back! o' t' other side. — O, my 
back, my back ! Beshrew your heart for sending me about to catch 
my death." 

Othello tells Desdemona, " I have a pain upon my forehead here. 

Desdemona. Faith, that's with watching ; 'twill away again : let me 
but bind it hard, within this hour it will be well." Desdemona was 
domestic. The fashion of compressing the head to relieve pain in 
the different regions of it has perhaps always been practiced. This 
is not to be wondered at when we remember how few remedies 



NEUROLOGY. 129 

there are in the way of medicine even in our advanced age, that 
will afford it relief — some of its forms at least. Indeed the true 
pathology of headaches is difficult to make out in most cases ; 
therefore our therapeutics have had little basis except empiricism 
until lately, when the ophthalmoscope has done something to elu- 
cidate the uncertainty. 

Headaches commonly depend upon some internal cause — some 
inter-cranial cause, though not always. The pain may be continual, 
or it may be occasional or periodic ; it may be aggravated or ameli- 
orated according to the position of the body. This pertains only 
to the complaint in some of its forms. Headache may occupy one 
particular region, or it may include the whole of the head. The 
latter is rare. The pain may have any one of the characteristics, 
as acute, throbbing, dull, etc., and may have particular hours or 
days for its recurrence. These varied characteristics of the pain 
have certain significance attached to them, from the fact of their 
being indices to the causation of the malady. Thus, the periodic 
variety pointing nearly always to a sympathetic or constitutional 
origin, while the continuous or persistent form more commonly has 
as its etiological factor some morbid process connected directly 
with the head — (brain, membranes, etc.) 

Some constitutional diseases manifest themselves particularly in 
the way of localizing their ravages upon the organs of mentation, 
and thus producing pain in the part. Of these, tubercle and 
syphilis are examples. The pain in these, particularly the last, 
may have something of a periodicity attached to it, but not the 
regularity which marks those cases of brow ague, etc., which have 
a malarial origin. 

It would commonly be as well in our divisions as to the patho- 
logical status of headaches to say that they are always accompanied 
by, and depend largely for their characteristic symptoms upon, one 
of only two pathological conditions — anemia or hyperemia. Of 
course, in determining to which of these varieties a given case be- 
longs we have to weigh well the accompanying conditions, — and 
here the ophthalmoscope will always be found a valuable aid in 
making the diagnosis. Unfortunately, its use is now restricted to 
the hands almost exclusively of the specialist ; but it will in time 
find a broader field in general practice. 

Of the medicines which do most for headaches, morphine is cer- 
tainly most indispensable in the more usual forms. Arsenic, in the 



130 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

form of Fowler's solution, as a remedy in the yet more persistent 
cases, while iodide of potassium is indispensable to the treatment 
of many forms, — of course more so in the specific varieties, as above 
named. 

Othello's headache was, it seems, of a transitory character, and 
would have yielded to a dose of morphine. 

In "Measure for Measure," and also in " Timon of Athens," 
sciatica is spoken of; — in the latter the language is as follows: 
" Plagues, incident to men, your potent and infectious fevers heap 
on Athens ! thou cold sciatica, cripple our senators, that their limbs 
may halt as lamely as their manners." Sciatica, in the drama first 
referred to, was located in the " hip " of course, and was in the 
person of a character said to be also syphilitic, — a complexity in 
these cases quite common now, and common enough then it seems 
to fall under the non-medical notice of Shakespeare. 

Titania, in "A Midsummer Night's Dream," thus muses: "The 
moon, the governess of floods, pale in her anger, washes all the air, 
that rheumatic diseases do abound," whilst the term " rheumatic " 
is used twice to illustrate the little querulous bouts between Fal- 
staff and his " Doll." Venus even allows that she is neither " rheu- 
matic" nor " cold" in her efforts to arouse her bashful boy Adonis 
to the " sticking point." 

Now for the gout : 

" A Midsummer Night's Dream." " Friend has thou none ; for 
thine own bowels, which do call thee sire, the mere effusion of thy 
proper loins, do curse the gout," whilst the little vixen, Rosalind, 
who had a very old head on a very pretty body doubtless, talks 
thus: 

Orlando. " Who ambles time withal ? 

Rosalind. "With a priest that lacks Latin, and a rich man that 
hath not the gout: for the one sleeps easily because he cannot 
study, and the other lives merrily because he feels no pain." 

Falstaff even knows a " thing or two" about it also: 

Falstaff. " I can get no remedy against this consumption of the 
purse : borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, but the desire is 
incurable ; go bear this letter to my lord of Lancaster ; this to the 
prince ; this to the earl of Westmoreland ; and this to old Mistress 
Ursula, whom I have weekly sworn to marry since I perceived the 
first white hair on my chin. About it : you know where to find me. 
(Exit Page.) A pox of this gout! or, a gout of this pox! for the 



NEUROLOGY. 131 

one or the other, plays the rogue with my great toe ! 'Tis no mat- 
ter, if I do halt ; I have the wars for my color, and my pension 
shall seem the more reasonable." 

It seems probable that a "gout of this pock" was much the 
more reasonable exclamation for Sir John to make, as the easy virtue 
of Mrs. Tear-sheet, and others perhaps of the knight's female 
friends, rendered its acquirement much easier than that of the 
other. It certainly is not a common point — the " great toe,'' in 
which to locate a local syphilitic lesion ; but yet, it presents itself 
under such varied forms, that we need not be at a loss to find it 
cropping out at any place in the person of such an old sinner as he. 

The term "gouty " is used incidentally in " Timon of Athens," 
and in " Cymbeline," thus: 

Scene: a Prison. 

Jailer. ' ' You shall not now be stolen ; you have locks upon 
you, so graze as you find pasture. 

2d Jailer. Ay, or stomachs. 

Posthumus. fin Jail.) Most welcome, bondage, for thou art 
a way, I think, to libert}'. Yet am I better than one that's sick 
o' the gout ; since he had rather groan so in perpetuity, than be 
cured by the sure physician, death, who is the key t' unbar these 
locks." This extract shadows the obstinate nature of gout, — points 
to the trouble of both physician and patient, and is altogether a 
good simile. 

Anorexia, which, like thirst, may be classed among the nervous 
phenomena, is mentioned definitely but once in Shakspeare : 

" To her, my lord, was I betroth'd ere I saw Hermia! but, like 
in sickness, I did loath this food ; but as in health, came to my 
natural taste." — "A Midsummer Night's Dream," A. iv., S. i. 

Paralysis is spoken of three times ; once by the duke of York in 
" Richard the Second," who would have chastis'd Bolingbroke had 
his arm not been " prisoner to the palsy ; " and again Lord Say, 
when brought before Jack Cade, when accused of trembling, denied 
it, saying " the palsy and not fear provoketh me." It is also noted 
in " Troilus and Cressida," where Ulysses describes the jests of 
Patroclus — the latter personifying old Nestor, for the merriment 
of Achilles. 

In the "Tempest" we find, "the nerves are in their infancy 
again, and have no vigor in them," having reference merely to a 
state of debility; and in "Macbeth" we have, "Take any shape 
but that, and my firm nerves shall never tremble." 



CHAPTER IV. 



PHARMACOLOGIA. 



Sleepy Drinks — Foster nurse of Nature — A liberal offer — A doctor's knowl- 
edge appreciated — What? — The perfumed dandy — Unbearable nonsense — 
What's in't? — Mandragora — Drowsy syrups — Superstition — Toxicology — The 
trusty pistol — Fashions of suicide — Difficulty of purchase — Poisoned by a 
monk — This tyrant fever — Swinstead abbey — Strange fantasies — North winds 
— A compound — Monks as physicians — Cardinal Beaufort — Liebreich an- 
ticipated — Republished — Was it chloral? — Comparison of conditions — Care- 
fully noted — Meagre were his looks — What, ho! — Famine is in thy cheek — 
Death's pale flag — Thus with a kiss — A nest of Death — A slight discrepancy — 
Oxalic acid — Discovery repeats itself — The insane root — Drugging the pos- 
set — "Hashish" — The unction of a mountebank — Rabies canina — Curara — 
From what derived?— A failure apprehended — Trap with double triggers — 
Fencing match — An unlooked for termination — A jealous sister — Kills and 
pains not — Immortal longings — Easy ways to die — Zest to a tragedy — A spe- 
cific — Alconcito — A royal student — Soliloquy— Most likely I did — Moreton 
preceded. 

In arranging a chapter on pharmacology, it is the design to divide 
it into two portions : — tlie first to include all articles of the materia 
medica proper, — the other to be devoted to toxicology. The first is 
brief, for the simple reason that the material for its elaboration is 
limited ; the material -for the latter, being more voluminous, will 
extend the chapter to some length. 

Narcotic remedies seem to have had an extended use in past ages, 
as we have them mentioned frequently in older writers, and pretty 
frequently in Shakespeare. Archidamus in the "Winter's Tale " 
says : "I don't know what to say. — ^We will give you sleepy drinks, 
that your senses, unintelligent of our insufiicience, may though they 
cannot praise us, as little accuse us." i 

This " sleepy drink " probably referred to some form of alcoholic 
intoxicant, as the parties to the conversation belong to the revelers 
of a royal court. 

132 



PHARMACOLOGIA. , 133 

The "sleeping potion" of Friar Laurence will be noticed more 
fully hereafter. 

In regard to treating Lear for his disordered intellect, we find the 
following in A. iv. of that play : 

Cordelia. "Alack! 'tis he: why, he was met even now, as mad 
as the vex'd sea: singing aloud; crown'd with rank fumiter and 
furrow weeds, with hoar-docks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers, 
darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow. A century send forth ; 
search every acre in the high-grown field, and bring him to our eye. 
(Exit an officer.) What can man's wisdom (do) in the restoring his 
bereaved sense? He that helps him, take all my outerward worth. 

Doctor. There is medicines, madam : Our foster-nurse of na- 
ture is repose, the which he lacks ; that to provoke in him are many 
simples operative, whose power will close the eye of anguish. 

Cordelia. All bless' d secrets, all you unpublish'd virtues of the 
(arth, spring with my tears! be aidant and remediate, in the good 
man's distress." 

Then occurs a time when they are all absorbed in business, but 
Cordelia has not forgotten old Lear, who, it appears, she had left 
in the care of the doctor, for she makes inquiry, " how does the 
king? doctor. 

Doctor. Madam, (he) sleeps still. 

Cordelia. O, you kind gods, cure this great breach in his abused 
nature ! 

Doctor. So please your majesty that we may wake the king? he 
hath slept long. 

Cordelia. Be govern' d by your knowledge, and proceed i' the 
sway of your own will. Is he array'd? 

Doctor. Ay, madam; in the heaviness of his sleep, we put fresh 
garments on him. 

Kent. Good madam, be by when we do awake him ; I doubt not 
of his temperance. 

Cordelia. Very well. (Music.) 

Doctor. Please you, draw near. — Louder the music there. 

Cordelia. He wakes, speak to him. 

Doctor. Madam, do you, 'tis fittest. 

Cordelia. How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty? 
Sir, do you know me? 

Lear. You are a spirit, I know. Where did you die? 



134 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

Cordelia. Still, still, far wide. 

Doctor. He's scarce awake. Let him alone awhile. 

Lear. Where have I been? "Where am I? I am a verj foolish, 
fond old man, four-score and upwards, not one hour more nor less, 
and to deal plainly, I fear I am not in my perfect mind." 

Cordelia becomes pathetic, as we may very well imagine, and the 
kind physician requests her to "be comfortable, madam ; the great 
rage, you see, is cur'd in him ; and yet it is dangerous to make him 
even o'er the time he has lost. Desire him to go in ; trouble him no 
more till further settling." 

Now, good my prof essional reader, what "simple" used the doc- 
tor wherewith he "closed the eye of anguish" in the foregoing 
case? Was it opium, chloral hydrate, bromide of potassium? — 
What? Most likely some vegetable narcotic, as such remedies as 
"hemlock" and other powerful agents of that class were much in 
vogue at that day. The doctor clearly presented the very best plan 
of treatment — enunciating the principle upon which the successful 
conduct of all such cases depends, namely, the "foster-nurse of 
nature — repose." I doubt much, however, whether the gentle Cor- 
delia did not forget the very fair promise in regard to the bestowal 
of her "outward worth," as my personal experience teaches me to 
regard with mistrust those who make loud pretensions of how hand- 
somely we are to be paid — it usually culminating in the doctor fail- 
ing of any fee at all, and with very little gratitude for his services. 
Regarding the pleasant effects of music on the weary mind and 
spirits, notice is taken of it in " The Tempest," thus: — "A solemn 
air, and the best comforter to an unsettled fancy, cure thy brains ;" 
and in the death-bed scene of Henry the Fourth, where he says — 
"let there be no noise made, my friends; unless some dull and 
favorable hand will whisper music to my weary spirit." In Buck- 
nill's " Mad Folk of Shakespeare " is to be found a long chapter on 
the beneficial effects of music in the treatment of the insane, in 
both ancient and modern times. 

Hotspur's contempt for the perfumed dandy who asserted that 
"parmaceti for an inward bruise" was " the sovereign' st thing on 
earth," was commendable; though it is exceedingly distasteful, we 
often are compelled to sit by in silence, and hear some vulgar igno- 
ramus expatiate upon the value of this or that or the other pro- 
cedure in medicine or surgery — ignoring our presence, and talking 



PHARMACOLOGIA. ] 35 

Tvith the face as of one with authority. What doctor is there who 
lias not had to learn, over, many times, from the lips of some foolish 
old woman, matters in his profession which, if not absurd or ridicu- 
lous, are at most puerile ; — swallowing them with the gravity of one 
who is listening to his sentence to the gallows ? What unbearable 
nonsense do we tolerate and sometimes tacitly assent to for the 
privilege of being physicians ? I set it down in print — in bold and 
unmistakable language, that the doctor occupies the most unenvi- 
able position of any member of modern society. 

"My noble mistress, liere's a box; I had it from the queen: 
what's in 't is precious ; if you are sick at sea, or stomach-qualm 'd 
at land, a dram of this will drive away distemper." " Cymbeline," 
A. iii., S. V. 

The " what's in't " must have been bromide of potassium, good 
wine, or else " effervescing nitrate of cereum," as these are said to 
be the best remedial measures other than " position," if it is remem- 
bered aright. Sea-sickness will likely always remain, in defiance of 
the combat waged with it by therapeutics. 

The soliloquy of Juliet, as to how she should feel in the event of 
her waking too soon and finding herself among the dead of "all 
the Capulets," evokes this language: 

" Alack, alack! is it not like that I, so early waking, — what with 
loathsome smells, and shrieks like mandrakes torn out of the earth, 
that living mortals hearing them, run mad? " 

In " Antony and Cleopatra," we find, "give me to drink man- 
dragora, that I might sleep out this great gap of time," in the lan- 
guage of Egypt's voluptuous queen. The first only needs notice from 
the fact of the superstition concerning it by the people of the middle 
ages, — the latter only for that of its early employment as a 
remedy, — especially for its soporific qualities, which were some- 
what analagous to the poppy it is supposed. 

" Not poppy, nor mandragora, nor all the dreamy syrups of the 
world, shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep, which thou 
ow'dst yesterday," says the villain lago, when he noted the tor- 
tured Othello approaching him. 

Mandragora is not used as a medicine to any considerable extent 
at the present day. It is indigenous to European countries, and 
not officinal in the United States. In illustration of the super- 
stitious notions connected with the may-apple, the duke of Suffolk, 
in execrating the king for banishing him, uses this term, — " would 



136 



SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 



curses kill as doth the mandrake's groan " — an idea derived from s 
mythological source, and founded on the notion that the may-apple 
sprang from the remains of a dead criminal, and that when it was 
drawn from the earth for the use of man, something must die. To 
accomplish the extraction of the root with the least detriment to 
animal existence, it was customary to loosen the soil about its roots, 
tie a worthless dog to it and then run away, stopping the ears to 
avoid hearing the shriek. The dog surely died. 




" The dog surely died." 

The "poultice" as a remedy for " aching bones " is suggested 
by "Nurse" in " Romeo and Juliet." 

We come now to the more voluminous, and we hope the more in- 
teresting, portion of this chapter — Part Second — or that which treats 
more especially of the toxic materials used in the writings of 
Shakespeare. 

It may well be imagined that in a work abounding in tragedies, 
and one in which women and sentiment played so conspicuous a 
part, that poisons would occupy a conspicuous place in the cata- 
logue of means whereby to put a quietus to a weary existence, — 
and such is the fact. It is more common now, for those who reach 
a point from which they view life as a failure, to resort to means 
more in keeping with the spirit of the age ; therefore they usually 
resort to that ever handy and speedy agent, a trusty pistol ; this 
however is more strikingly true of suicide in America, whilst the 
poisons are yet often resorted to in Europe, and among other 
civilized nations. Under the heading "The Fashions of Suicide," 



PHARMACOLOGIA. 137 

Dr. Lankester, in his report of inquests for 1868-69 (noted in 
Med. Press and Circular), gives some interesting facts in regard 
to the subject. He says considerable change has taken place in 
the selection of poisons for suicidal purposes. That most fre- 
quently used during late years being cyanide of potassium ; it is 
purchased without difficulty, and its action is most deadly. The 
next agent in most frequent use is oxalic acid, whilst the use of 
opium, hydrocyanic acid, etc., is on the decline, owing perhaps to 
the greater difficulty encountered in procuring them by purchase. 
The reason the other substances are more easily procured is that 
they are largely used in the arts, and are in the hands of number- 
less persons everywhere. 

Although reference is made to poison in "The Tempest," 
A. iii., S. ii., and in one place again reference made to giving it 
so that it might " work a great time after," and spoken of also in 
"The Winter's Tale," A. i,, S. i., and "rats'-bane" as a poison 
two or three times, there is nothing worthy of note said of it until 
in "King John," A. v., S. vi., where the following language 
occurs : 

Herbert. (The king's cJiamberlainJ. " The king, I fear, is poi- 
soned by a monk : I left him almost speechless, and brake out to 
acquaint you with this evil, that you might the better arm you to 
this sudden time, than if you had at leisure known of this. 

Bastard. How did he take it ? who did taste to him ? 

Herbert. A monk, I tell you ; a resolved villain, whose bowels 
suddenly burst out: the king yet speaks, and, peradventure, may 
recover." 

In this quotation Shakespeare does not appear to have kept close 
to the symptomatology, for the king had been sick a time before 
this poisoning should have happened. In Scene iii., whilst on the 
field of battle, the king was made to exclaim, — "Ah, me! this 
tyrant fever burns me up, and will not let me welcome this good 
news. Set on towards Swinstead ; to my litter straight ; weakness 
possesseth me, and I am faint." If the monk had been using 
treachery toward the king, then he certainly had been using " poison 
to work a great time after," because even prior to the facts last 
stated as to the condition of King John on the battle-field, the com- 
plaint is made by him, — "this fever that hath troubled me so long, 
lies heavy on me : O! my heart is sick." 



138 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

The Bastard seemed fully persuaded of the truth of the report 
that the king was poisoned, as he hastily' ordered the messenger, — 
"Away, before: conduct me to the king; I doubt, he will be dead 
ere I come." After reaching Swinstead Abbey the oft quoted 
soliloquy of Prince Henry occurred : "It is too late: the life of 
all his blood is touch' d corruptibly ; and his pure brain (which some 
suppose the soul's frail dwelling-house), doth by the idle comment 
that it makes, foretell the ending of mortality." 

Pembroke. " His highness yet doth speak ; and holds belief that 
being brought into the open air it would allay the burning quality 
of that fell poison which assaileth him. 

Prince Henry. Let him be brought into the orchard here. — Doth 
he still rage? 

Pembroke. He is more patient than when you left him: even 
now he sung. 

Prince Henry. O ! vanity of sickness ! fierce extremes in their 
continuance will not feel themselves. Death, having prey'd upon 
the outward parts, leaves them unvisited ; and his siege is now 
against the mind, the which, he pricks and wounds with many 
legions of strange fantasies, which, in their throng and press to 
that last hold, confound themselves. 'Tis strange that death 
should sing." 

The king is then brought to the open air, and thus rejoices : 
"Ah, marry, now my soul hath elbow-room, it would not out at 
windows, nor at doors. There is so hot a summer in my bosom, 
that all my bowels crumble up to dust: I am a scribbled form, 
drawn with a pen upon a parchment, — and against this fire I shrink 
up. 

Prince Henry. How fares your majesty? 

King John. Poison'd, — ill fare ; — dead, forsook, cast-off ; and 
none of you will bid the winter come, nor let (my kingdom's) 
rivers take their course through my burn'd bosom ; nor entreat the 
north winds kiss my parched lips, and comfort me with cold. The 
poison is as a fiend, confin'd to tyrannize on unreprievable condemned 
blood." 

The question for solution, when we analyze the foregoing extract, 
presents two points of interest: first, was the king poisoned at all? 
and, second, if he was poisoned, what substance had been used for 
that purpose? 



PHARMACOLOGIA. 139 

In regard to the first of these propositions, it is pretty clearly 
apparent, to our mind, that he was not poisoned at all by the hand 
of a monk, or any one else — in fact was not poisoned at all in the 
light in which himself and attendants viewed the matter. This 
we shall attempt to establish clearly in a subsequent portion of this 
work. 

As to the second proposition, there is more difficulty ; he had not 
symptoms confined alone to the action of one virulent poison, but 
some common to several ; therefore if he was poisoned, he had cer- 
tainly been dosed with a compound. These too had been of both 
A'^egetable and mineral origin, if we may judge from the symptoma- 
tology. In the quotations, — "Doth he still rage?" and "the 
idle comment that it makes," with "many legions of strong fan- 
tasies," etc., all show a mind disordered, either from disease or 
poison. If from the latter, then it was from a narcotic or cerebro- 
spinal poison, the class of which are usually of vegetable origin — 
acting secondarily if at all, upon the visceral structures ; whilst 
those "fell poisons" which have " bnrning qualities" about them 
and produce "burn'd bosoms" and "parched lips," necessitating 
entreaties for flowing rivers of water and north winds, are usually 
of the corrosive mineral kinds — producing intense inflammatory 
action in the tissues with which they come in contact, but seldom 
acting upon the brain suflEiciently to disturb the intellectual facul- 
ties. If in this case "poison" had contained "physic," it was an 
unfortunate circumstance ; the monks often practiced the healing 
art, I believe, in those days — hence the king may have possessed 
an idiosyncrasy which was antagonistic to the prescription em- 
ployed. 

It is not very clear what is meant by the term used in connection 
with the monk who tasted to the king when it is said his bowels 
suddenly burst out. He was, no doubt, the subject of a hernial 
protusion and had the misfortune to have the intestine escape at 
the particular juncture named, and some movement or word of his 
betrayed the condition to those present at the king's attendance. 
They were anxious to find a pretext for his accusation and hence 
magnified even this accident to the poor monk's condemnation. 

As to the singing of the king when thought to be dying, this is 
not very uncommon during the recovery from the influence of chlo- 
roform or in the intoxication of alcohol and some other poisons, - 
though in the very jaws of death from a congestive chill I have 



140 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

heard the sufferer sing and pray as if in a toxic or inebriated condi- 
tion. 

" Give me some drink ; and bid the apothecary bring the strong 
poison I bought of him " are words from the lips of the dying 
Cardinal Beaufort, Bishop of Winchester. 

As suggested before, the consideration of the soporific or "sleep- 
ing potion" of Friar Laurence is placed under the division of toxi- 
cology because of the characteristic effects of the remedy upon the 
animal economy — no remedy having such power, being free from 
toxicological properties when given in quantities, or to the susceptible 
or in peculiar conditions of the system ; it therefore takes quantity 
as well as quality to constitute a poison, — its poisonous properties 
only being judged by its effects. 

It has been suggested by an ingenious writer, that the good Friar 
had certainly anticipated Liebreich in the discovery and use of the 
hydrate of chloral ; and a cursory view of the symptoms attending 
the action of the real and the mythical remedies upon the human 
system, might very easily cause any one to commit a like error ; but 
there is a great dissimilarity in their action, as we shall see. I will 
quote from an article of my own, written upon this subject, and 
published in the Leavenworth Medical Herald, some years ago: 
"I am of the opinion that if the correspondent of the '■Michigan 
University Medical Journal,' who seems to have made the important 
discovery of the identity of these drugs, had read the tvhole of the 
Friar's instructions, and not have mutilated them by making ex- 
tracts, he could not have seen so striking an analogy in the action 
of the remedies. The full conversation ran thus : 

Friar. ' Take now this phial, being then in bed, and this dis- 
tilled liquor drink thou off ; when, presently, through all thy veins 
shall run a cold and drowsy humor ; for no pulse shall keep his na- 
tive progress, but surcease: no ivarmth, no breath shall testify that 
thou livest; the roses in thy lijys and cheeks shall fade to paly ashes; 
thy eyes' windows fall, like death when he shuts up the day of 
life ; each part deprived of suple-government, shall stark and stiff 
and cold appear like death: and in the borrow'd likeness of shrank 
death thou shall continue two and forty hours, and then awake as 
from a pleasant sleep. 

Now, when the bridegroom in the morning comes to rouse thee 
from thy bed, there art thou dead : then, as the manner of our 
country is, in thy best robes uncover'd on the bier, be borne 



PHARMACOLOGIA. 141 

to burial in thy kindred's grave.' When discovered by her 
nurse and Lady Capulet, tremendous exertions were made to 
awaken her, but without avail ; then comes Capulet himself, who 
thus exclaims: 'Ha! let me see her. Out, alas ! she's cold! Her 
blood is settled, and her joints are stiff; life and those lips have long 
been separated.' 

After a careful survey of the literature of the subject, I find the 
salient points of the action of the hydrate of chloral, on the bodily 
functions, to be the following: 

Little or no impairment of the function of respiration ; no abnormal 
condition of the pulse — the heart being the last of the vital organs to 
become affected by the agent. The face becomes flushed, and the eyes 
suffused and congested; unusual renal activity. There is an especial 
relaxation of all the soft tissues of the body, tvith an exalted cutaneous 
sensibility. Sixteen hoiirs the longest time recorded, during ^vhich a 
patient has been hept under its influence by a single dose, and that in 
the case of a person suffering from stupor and melancholia, — 
hardly a fair test. 

The hypnotic action of the drug, though very rapid, not morbidly 
profound like that of opium and some other narcotics ; — a hand on 
the door, a gentle word, or slight puncture being sufficient to arouse the 
sleeper to immediate and complete consciousness. Now I am per- 
suaded that a careful collation of the two leading paragraphs of 
this article, — especially the italicised lines, will disclose the fact 
that hydrate of chloral produces few of the symptoms attributed 
by Shakespeare to his mythical drug ; and that if Friar Laurence 
supplied the fair Juliet with a ' sweet oblivious antidote,' to rid her 
of an odious and troublesome suitor, it waswoi chloral hydrate." 

As stated before, the foregoing quotation was written a few 
months after the discovery of the "hydrate," but the action of 
the agent was so carefully noted by those who had administered it 
up to that time that there have been no observations from its more 
extended use, which change the notions of the profession from the 
therapeutic facts as above related of it. 

It must be admitted, however, that we have no remedy in our 
voluminous materia medica of which we are aware, that would come 
as near producing the general effects of the Friar's remedy as the 
hydrate of chloral ; and it would really seem that to regard it in a 
general way, Liebriech has only reproduced a long lost article — 
known and used hundreds of years in the past — medicine as well as 



142 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

history repeating itself. If the powerful remedy used by Juliet 
was a mystery, we yet have another in the drug employed by Romeo 
in his tragic end. 

" Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night. Let's see for means : 
O, mischief ! thou art swift to enter in the thoughts of desperate 
men. I do remember an apothecary, and hereabouts he dwells, 
which late I noted in tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows, 
culling of simples: meagre were his looks, sharp misery had worn 
him to the bones ; and in his needy shop a tortoise hung, an alli- 
gator stuff'd, and other skins of ill-shap'd fishes ; and about his 
shelves a beggarly account of empty boxes, green earthen pots, 
bladders, and musty seeds, were thinly scatter'd to make up a show. 
Noting his penury, to myself I said — and if a man did need a poison 
now, whose sale is present death in Mantua, here lives a caitiff 
wretch would sell it him. O ! this same thought did but forerun 
my need; being holiday, the beggar's house is shut. — What, ho! 
apothecary ! 

Apothecary. Who calls so loud? 

Romeo. Come hither, man. — I see that thou art poor ; hold, there 
is forty ducats : let me have a dram of poison ; such soon-speeding 
gear as will disperse itself through all the veins, that the life-weary 
taker may fall dead ; and the trunk may be discharged of breath as 
violently, as hasty powder fir'd doth hurry from the fatal cannon's 
womb. 

Apothecary. Such mortal drugs I have ; but Mantua's law is 
death to any he that utters them. 

Romeo. Art thou so base, and full of wretchedness, and fear'st 
to die.? famine is in thy cheeks, need and oppression starveth in 
thine eye, contempt and beggary hang on thy back, the world is not 
thy friend, nor the^world's law ; the world affords no law to make thee 
rich ; then be not poor, but break it, and take this. ( Giving money. ) 

Apothecary. My poverty, but not my will, consents. 

Romeo. I pay thy poverty, not thy will. 



PHARMACOLOGIA. 



143 




Apothecary. Put this in any liquid thing you will, and drink it 
off; and if you had the strength of twenty men, it would despatch 
you straight." Supplied with the death-dealing agent furnished 
him in violation of the penal statutes of the government of Mantua, 
the grief-stricken representative of all the Montagues hastened 
from his exile to the ' tomb of all the Capulets,' where, upon dis- 
covering the still form of his bride, he thus soliloquized: "Death, 
that has suck'd the honey of thy breath, hath no power yet upon 
thy beauty: thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet is crim- 
son in thy lips, and in thy cheeks, and death's pale flag is not 
advanced there. Ah! dear Juliet, why art thou yet so fair? I will 
believe that unsubstantial death is amorous ; and that the lean 
abhorred monster keeps thee here in dark to be his paramour. 
For fear of that I still will stay with thee, and never from this place 
of dim night depart again : here, here will I remain with worms 
that are thy chambermaids ; O ! here will I sit up my everlasting 



144 



SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 



rest, and shake the yoke of inauspicious stars from this world- 
wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last ; arms, take your last embrace ; 
and lips, O ! you, the doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss a 
dateless bargain to engrossing death. — Come, bitter conduct, come 
unsavory guide ! thou desperate pilot, now at once run on the dash- 
ing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark. Here's to my love. — (^Drinks 
Ms poison.) O, true apothecary! thy drugs are quick. — Thus with a 
kiss I die." 

(^Friar Laurence visits the tomb, and the lady wakes.") 

Juliet. "O, comfortable Friar ! where is my love ? I do remem- 
ber well where I should be, and there I am. — Where is my Romeo? 




JPriar.— "Lady, come from that nest of death." 
Friar. Lady, come^from that nest of death, contagion, and un- 
natural sleep. Come, come away ; thy husband in thy bosom there 
lies dead ; come, I will dispose of thee among a sisterhood of holy 
nuns. Stay not to question ; come, go, good Juliet. — I dare no 
longer stay. 



PHARMACOLOGIA. 145 

Juliet. Go, get thee hence, for I will not away. — What's here? 
a cup, clos'd in my true love's hand? poison, I see, hath been his 
timeless end. — O churl ! drink all, and leave no friendly drop to 
help me after? — I will kiss thy lips; haply, some poison doth yet 
hang on them, to make me die with a restorative. Thy lips are 
warm ! ' ' 

Juliet then falls dead with Romeo's dagger buried deep in her 
heart. The old Friar explained the whole matter to the relatives of 
the two lovers in the following words : 

" I will be brief, for my short date of breath is not so long as a 
tedious tale. Romeo there dead, was husband to that Juliet ; and 
she there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife: I married them; and 
their stolen marriage-day was Tybalt's dooms-day, whose untimely 
death, banished the new-made bridegroom from this city, — for whom, 
and not Tybalt, Juliet pin'd. Then comes she to me, and with 
wild looks bade me devise some means, or in my cell there would 
she kill herself. Then gave I her, (so tutor'd by my art) a 'sleep- 
ing potion, which so took effect as I intended, for it wrought on her 
the form of death. 

Prince. This letter doth make good the Friar's words, their 
course of love, the tidings of her death, and here he writes, 
that he did buy a poison of a 'poor apothecary.' " 

It will be noticed that the condition of Juliet at the time of 
Romeo's contemplation of her, and a description of her condition 
at the time of her first taking the remedy, are quite discrepant ; in 
the first she is in the "likeness of shrank death," the "roses'in 
her lips and cheeks are faded to paly ashes," whilst in the other it 
is said that " beauty's ensign yet is crimson in her lips and in her 
cheeks, and death's pale flag is not advanced there." The latter con- 
dition coincides more nearly with the conditions of one under the 
influence of chloral. It is a remarkable fact, that neither in lan- 
guage nor sentiment is there scarcely to be found a contradiction in 
all of Shakespeare's writings ; the contradiction in the case of 
Juliet's condition being not of his making, as the five lines begin- 
ning, "Death that hath sucked the honey of thy breath," and 
containing the error or contradiction in idea is, in the copy from 
which I quote, the work of an "emendator;" — not to be found in 
older copies of the work, and notably absent from the quarto of 



146 SHAKESPEAKE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

1597. This shows conclusively, that few men can correct errors for, 
or improve upon the works of Shakespeare. 

In regard to the poison used by Romeo, it seems that oxalic acid 
comes nearer filling the physical and toxical conditions of the 
material than any other we possess at this day. "Put this in any 
liquid thing you will, and drink it off, and it will despatch you 
straight ;" showing that it acted with celerity, and that it was neces- 
sary to dissolve or dilute it ; nicotina or prussic acid might have 
been used in the event of the last suggestion, but the other is most 
plausible. 

Oxalic acid is a colorless, crystallized solid, possessing a strong, 
sour taste ; it dissolves in nine times its weight of cold, and in its 
own weight of boiling water ; it dissolves in alcohol. It is a viru- 
lent poison in large doses, producing death with great rapidity and 
certainty in from ten to sixty minutes ; it was not noticed as a poi- 
son until 1814, by Eoyston ; since then by Percy, Thompson, and 
others ; it is much used in the arts — particularly in calico printing, 
for discharging colors, — and therefore is quite a common agent in 
the hands of the suicide, even now. Cyanide of hydrogen, or 
prussic acid was first discovered by Scheele, in 1782, whilst nicotina 
was not known until quite recently ; so that, if either of these ar- 
ticles were among the contraband in the stock of the poor apothe- 
cary of Mantua, we have only another instance of the fact that 
scientists are now discovering many things as new, which have been 
in use so long ago as to have fallen into disuse and have been for- 
gotten. 

Banquo, in a conversation with Macbeth soon after encountering 
the witches upon the heath of Fores, speculates in this way: "Were 
such things here, as we do speak about, or have we eaten on the 
insane root, that takes the reason prisoner?" 

It is probable that the substance here referred to as the " insane 
root," was the modern cicuta or conium maculatum — the "hemlock" 
of the ancients, which was so popular as a weapon for the purpose 
of suicide and criminal poisoning ; it is a most energetic poison, 
three drops of conia, the active principle of the plant, having killed 
a stout cat in a minute and a half ; it acts upon the spinal cord, 
prostrating the nervous powers, paralyzing the voluntary muscular 
system, and destroys life by arresting the function of respiration. 
The brain does not seem to be influenced in any marked degree, 
even by a poisonous dose of the medicine ; therefore the idea that 



PHARMACOLOGIA. 147 

it " takes the reason prisoner," is scarcely correct. In the fearful 
tragedy of "Macbeth," again, A. ii., S. ii., it is stated that Lady 
Macbeth " drugged the possets " of the king's attendants, "that 
death and nature did contend about them, whether they lived or 
died." 

The half clear, half disturbed slumbers of these men, whilst 
Macbeth with bloody hands bent over their prostrated bodies, shows 
that they perhaps were laboring under the effects of some powerful 
toxical agent ;— the "hashish," cannabis indica, or Indian hemp 
comes nearest meeting the characteristics in action upon the brain, 
of any of our modern substances ; it is a powerful narcotic when 
given in sufficient quantity, but in a less dose it produces an in- 
toxicated mind with delirious hallucinations — with, finally, drow- 
siness, stupor, etc., but has little effect upon the action of the 
heart. When taken into the stomach, it acts with much greater 
rapidity than opium, and most other vegetable toxicants ; nor does 
it produce nausea as does opium occasionally. 

There is in "Hamlet," A. iv., S. vii., recorded a conference be- 
tween Laertes and the king, in regard to the assassination of Ham- 
let, as he seemed to stand directly in the path of their villainies. 
The former uses this language : " I will do 't ; and for that purpose 
I'll anoint my sword. I bought an unction of a mountebank, so 
mortal that but dip a knife into it, where it draws blood no cata- 
plasm so rare, collected from all simples that have virtue under the 
moon, can save the thing from death, that is but scratch'd withal. 
I'll touch my point with this contagion, that if I gall him slightly, 
it may be death." 

We have the analogue of this " unction " in the virulent organic 
poisons, — those I mean of animal origin, and also a few cases in 
which they are probably of vegetable origin. In regard to those 
originating from the animal kingdom, it is a singular fact that they 
are not in any instance capable of being elaborated by the manipu- 
lations of the chemist, or by combinations brought about external 
to the living animal economy, but are, on the contrary, always, 

perhaps, generated by the animal organism in a state of vitality 

most commonly during a state of normal vitality. As an illustra- 
tion of the latter we have the poisons of the reptile and insect 
creations, one of which perhaps furnished the vindictive Laertes 
with his " contagion," whilst of the other, we may name the viru- 
lent products of rabies canina, glanders, etc., omitting entirely the 



148 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

products of animal decomposition, the specific poisons of small- 
pox, etc. All savage nations of the earth are in the habit of using 
these animal poisons for the purpose of tipping their arrows and 
spears, — but one vegetable poison being in use for this purpose 
within my knowledge, namely, the "curare" or " arrow poison " 
of British Guiana, — used by the natives for the purpose indicated 
by the name. This poison is as deadly as that of the rattlesnake, 
and, like it, exerts its most noticeable action upon the subcutaneous 
tissues; though the least abrasion of the mucous or cutaneous 
surfaces is sufficient to admit it into the body. It is claimed by 
most authorities that this wonderfully active production is derived 
from the bark of a ground-like plant, by aqueous extract ; though 
there are others who claim that it is derived from the animal king- 
dom ; and these are the most likely correct, from the simple fact 
that it has many analogues in that direction and none in the other. 

The action of these three forms of poisons upon the animal 
economy is quite unlike in the main — those of vegetable origin 
acting for the most part upon and through the nervous system- 
producing little or no observable change in the structures of the 
body, while of mineral poisons, as before remarked, inflammatory 
and destructive metamorphosis is the common accompaniment of 
their action. Of the animal poisons, those generated in the living 
animal, as in rabies and the poison of serpents, etc., they multiply 
in the system when taken into the blood, and have thus always 
offered ample soil in which to propagate. As to the poisons gener- 
ated in the putrefactive process in animal products, and which 
generate the low fevers for example, these should no longer be re- 
garded as poisons proper, as they are now commonly recognized as 
belonging to and identical with parasitic, living, organisms — are 
real animals, as much so as are the lions and tigers found in the 
jungles of Central Africa. 

Immediately succeeding the conversation in which Laertes boasts 
of having purchased the poison, he and the king continued,— 

King. "Let's farther think of this; weigh, what convenience, 
both of time and means, may fit us to our shape. 

If this should fail, and that our drift looked through our bad 
performance, 'twere better not assay'd: therefore, this project 
should have a back, or second, that might hold, if this should blast 
in proof. Soft!— let me see:— we'll make a solemn wager on your 
cunnings, I ha'c: when in your motions you are hot and dry (as 



PHARMACOLOGIA. 149 

make your bouts more violent to that end), and that he calls for 
drink, I'll have prepar'd him a chalice for the nonce, whereon but 
sipping, if he by chance escape your venom' d stuck, our purpose 
may hold there." (This will be remembered as the plan for the 
termination of the fencing match, which had been arranged to take 
place between Laertes and Hamlet. They supposed that Hamlet 
knew nothing of the malice they bore him, but in that they were 
mistaken ; he was better posted than his eccentricities would suffer 
them to acknowledge.) 

"Set me the stoop of wine upon that table there. If Hamlet 
give the first or second hit, or quit in answer of the third exchange, 
the king shall drink to Hamlet's better breath. 

Give me the cups ; now the king drinks to Hamlet ; come, begin ; 

Hamlet. Come on, sir. 

Laertes. Come, my lord. 

Hamlet. One. 

Laertes. No. 

Hamlet. Judgment. 

Osric. (A courtier.) A hit, a very palpable hit. 

King. Stay : give drink. Hamlet, the pearl is thine (the pearl 
was placed in the poisoned glass) ; here's to thy health. — Give him 
the cup. 

Hamlet. I'll play this bout first; set it by awhile. 

King. Our son shall win. 

Queen. (Hamlet's mother.) He's fat, and scant of breath. — 
Here's a napkin; rub thy brows, my son: the queen carouses to 
thy fortune, Hamlet. 

Hamlet. Good madam, — 

King. Gertrude (the queen), don't drink. 

Queeyi. I will, my lord: I pray you pardon me. (Drinlis.) 

King. It is the poisoned cup ! it is too late. (Aside.) 

Hamlet. I dare not drink yet madam ; by and by. 

Queen. Come, let me wipe thy face." 

Laertes and Hamlet then play their third bout, when Hamlet is 
wounded, and by chance changes daggers with his antagonist and 
wounds him also; the queen falls — crying, the drink ! the drink! 
I'm poisoned! (Dies.) Laertes then falls also, and as he does so 
he exclaims — "It is here Hamlet. Hamlet, thou art slain; no 
medicine in the world can do thee good : in thee there is not half 



150 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

an hour of life : the treacherous instrument is in thy hand, unbated 
and envenom'd. The foul practice hath turn'd itself on me; lo, 
here I lie, never to rise again. Thy mother's poison'd; I can no 
more. The king, the king's to blame. 

Hamlet. The point envenom'd too! Then, venom, do thy work! 
(^Stabs the king.) 

It is probable that the poison in the wine was the conium macu- 
latum. It usually commences to operate in half an hour, when 
taken in poisonous doses. It seems that the toxic agents of Shakes- 
peare's imagination were of a potent quality whether those in the 
drug shops of his cotemporaries were so or not, and certain it is, he 
lacked no skill in using them with tragic effect. 

In " King Lear," A. v., S. ii., we find another character disposed 
of by poison ; this is Regan, who was, through jealousy, poisoned 
by her sister Goneril — she then committing suicide with a poniard. 

The circumstances attending this tragedy are not drawn with the 
minuteness and skill which characterize most other scenes of this 
nature in Shakespeare's writings ; therefore we have fewer grounds 
for speculation. Othello spoke of poisons as an agent with which 
to rid himself of the torments of jealousy, but he relinquished this 
purpose in favor of the more trusty dagger. The defeat of Mark 
Antony determined Cleopatra to take her departure to that bourne 
from whence no pilgrim has ever returned, and she thus declares, 
" Not the imperious show of the full-fortuned Caesar ever shall be 
broach'dwith me; if knife, drugs, serpents, have edge, sting or 
operation, I am safe." She finally decides upon the decisive act, 
and thus addresses her attendant: — "Hast thou not the pretty worm 
of Nilus there, that kills and pains not? 

Attendant. Truly, I have him ; but I would not be the party 
that should desire you to touch him, for his biting is mortal : those 
that do die of it, do seldom or never recover. 

Cleopatra. Remember'st thou any that have died on 't? 

Attendant. (A down.) Very many, men and women too. I 
heard of one of them no longer than yesterday: a very honest 
woman, but something given to lie, as a woman should not do but 
in the way of honesty how she died of the biting of it, what pain 
she felt. — Truly, she makes a very good report of the worm ; but 
he that will believe all they say, shall never be saved by half what 
they do. But this is most fallible, the worm 's an adder-worm. 
Cleopatra. Get thee hence ; farewell. 



PH ARM AC OLOGI A . 151 

Attendant. I wish you all joy of the worm. 

Cleopatra. Farewell. 

Attendant. Look you, the worm will do his kind, remember. 

Cleopatra. Ay, ay ; farewell. 

Attendant. Look you, the worm is not to be trusted but in the 
keeping of wise people ; for, indeed, there is no goodness in the 
worm. 

Cleopatra. Take thou no care, it shall be heeded. 

Attendant. Very good. Give it nothing, I pray you, for it is not 
worth the feeding. 

Cleopatra. Will it eat me ? 

Attendant. You must not think I am so simple, but I know the 
devil himself will not eat a woman : I know, that a woman is a dish 
for the gods, if the devil dress her not ; but, truly th£se same 
whoreson devils do the gods great harm in their women, for in 
every ten that they make, the devils mar nine. 

Cleopatra. Well, get thee gone ; farewell. 

Attendant. Yes, forsooth ; I wish you joy of the worm. (^Ex. 
down.) 

(^Enter female attendant.) 

Cleopatra. Give me my robe, put on my crown ; I have immortal 
longings in me. Now, no more the juice of Egypt's grape shall 
moist this lip. — So, have you done? Come, then, and take the last 
warmth of my lips." {They kiss, and the maid falls dead^ when 
Cleopatra asks :) — "Dost fall.? have I the aspick in my lips? If 
thou and nature can so gently part, the stroke of death is as a 
lover's pinch, which hurts and is desir'd. Dost thou lie still? If 
thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world it's not worth leave- 
taking. (To the adder.) Come, thou mortal wretch, with thy 
sharp teeth, this knot intrinsicate of life at once untie: poor ven- 
omous fool, be angry, and despatch. {To her maid.) Dost thou 
not see my baby at my breast, that sucks the nurse asleep? (She 
had applied the serpent to her breast.) As sweet as balm, as soft as 
air, as gentle. — Nay, I will take thee too. {Applies one to her arm.) 
Why should I stay." — {Falls doion dead.) 

Csesar, whose prisoner she was, then enters the room and enquires — 
" the manner of their deaths? I do not see them bleed. Poisoned, 
then. O noble weakness ! — If they had swallow'd poison, 'twould 
appear by external swelling ; but she looks like sleep. Here, on 
her breast, there is a vent of blood, and something blown the like 
is on her arm. 



152 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAK. 

Attendant. This is an aspick's trail. 

Ccesar. Most probable, that so she died, for her physician tells 
me, she hath pursu'd conclusions infinite of easy ways to die." 

In the modern science of ophiology the adder is placed as a rela- 
tive of the viper family, a species of serpent which usually inhabits 
dry, rocky and barren districts, and is not found in the vicinity of 
rivers and marshy grounds. The poisonous animal to which refer- 
ence is made under the name of the " worm of Nilus," most prob- 
ably belonged to the trigonocephalus piscivorus of naturalists, which 
inhabits rivers and marshes in many southern latitudes, and the bite 
of which is speedily fatal. 

The absence of external swelling would be no proof that poison 
had not been swalloio'd, as Csesar seems to have conjectured ; but 
its absence might have been taken as some evidence that the parties 
had not died from the poison of a venomous reptile, as " external " 
swelling is an almost universal accompaniment of this virus when 
in contact with subcutaneous tissue. There are no logical grounds 
for the idea of the maid's dying merely from the contact of her 
mistress' lips ; — the matter gives zest to a tragedy, but will scarcely 
bear rigid scientific enquiry. It is well known that the poison of 
most if not all herpetologic nature, is innoxious when in contact 
with unabraded cutaneous and mucous surfaces. Cleopatra cer- 
tainly learned originality, whether she succeeded in hitting upon an 
" easy way to die " or not ; but that the poison of any of the snake 
tribe "kills and pains not" is hardly consonant with the expe- 
riences upon that point, — the most of them being extremely painful 
in their action ; the bite of the tarantula, rattlesnake, etc., being 
attended with vomiting, cramps, suffocating spasms, coldness and 
great prostration of the nervous powers, and death. Notwithstand- 
ing the fact that some of these poisons blast human life with the 
celerity of the lightning's stroke, yet it is probable that had an en- 
lightened physician of the present day been present, he might have 
saved the life of Cleopatra, as, aside from the whiskey and ammonia 
treatment now so common and usually so successful, there has been 
recently discovered a specific for the evil ; this is nothing else than 
the gall of the serpent so causing the wound, — one of the same 
species, or else the gall of some other species whose poison is more 
virulent than the one that did the biting. The manner of using is 
to take ten parts of ninety-five per cent alcohol, or an equal quan- 
tity of the best whiskey, to one part of the gall, then dilute five 



PHARMACOLOGIA. 153 

drops of this mixture with half a tumbler (rather indefinite) of 
pure water, and give a teaspoonful every three or five minutes until 
all is taken. If the pain and swelling are not much benefited, re- 
peat the process as before. 

The author of this treatment is a medical gentleman who has long 
resided in India, and says that of fifty cases treated, he had to re- 
peat the first quantity but twice, and every patient recovered. 

The native Indians are said to use a tincture made from a plant 
called alconcito, or solobasta^ for the bites of the most poisonous va- 
rieties, and with good success. They also inoculate with it as a pro- 
phylactic against the venom of all noxious animals. Our American 
aborigines are in the habit of using the oxistoloquia virginiana, or 
serjyentaria, for the same purpose, but with what success I don't 
know. 

In Cymbeline, A. i., S. iii., we have the following: 

Queen. "Now, master doctor, have j^ou brought those drugs? 

Physician. Pleaseth your highness, ay: here they are, madam: 
but I beseech your grace, without offence (my conscience bids me 
ask), wherefore you have commanded of me these most poisonous 
compounds, which are the movers of a most languishing death ; 
but though slow, deadly. 

Queen. I wonder, doetor, thou ask'st me such a question: have 
I not been thy pupil long? Has thou not learn'd me how to make 
perfumes? distill? preserve? yea, so that our great king himself 
doth woo me oft for my confections ? Having thus far proceeded 
(unless thou think'st me devilish), is 't not meet that I did amplify 
my judgment in other conclusions? I will try the forces of these 
thy compounds on such creatures as we count not worth the hang- 
ing (but none human), to try the vigor of them, and apply allay- 
ments to their act, and by them gather their several virtues and 
effects. 

Physician. Your highness shall from this practice but make 
hard your heart: besides, the seeing these effects will be both 
noisome and infectious." 

It appears from this paragraph that Shakespeare held the notions 
of most laymen even of to-day in regard to vivisections and physi- 
ological experiments in general upon the lower animals. He puts 
his words in the mouth of a physician however, — a place from 
which would emanate very little of that teaching at this time — ex- 



154 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

cept, perhaps, it might so happen under exactly the same or anal- 
ogous circumstances wherein the doctor was using only subterfuge — 
evading the unpleasant duty of directly offending a royal patron. 
The custom of such physiological experimentation of course then 
obtained, or had obtained, or Shakespeare would have had no data 
upon which to found an idea of it — unless it was another of his 
intuitions. 

In another place, and when alone, the good Doctor Cornelius 
talks thus with himself: " I do not like her; she doth think she 
has strange lingering poisons : I do know her spirit, and will not 
trust one of her malice with a drug of such damn'd nature. Those 
she has will stupefy and dull the senses awhile ; which first, per- 
chance, she'll prove on cats, and dogs, then afterward up higher ; 
but there is no danger in what show of death it makes more than 
the locking up the spirits a time to be more fresh reviving. She is 
fooled with a most false effect ; and I the truer, so to be false with 
her." It is made evident that the queen had a homicidal mania; 
and in a passage in A. v., S. v., same play, it is said by Cornelius 
that the flight of Cymbeline's daughter was all that saved her from 
being " taken off by poison." The doctor then divulges the fact 
to the king, that he had very often been importuned by the queen 
to "temper" poisons for her, pretending that she only wanted to 
eradicate such vile things as cats and dogs, and things of no esteem ; 
but he divining that her purpose was of danger to the life of some- 
thing more important, did compound for her a certain stuff, which 
being taken, would cease the present powers of life ; but, in short 
time, all offices of nature should again do their due functions. — 
"Have you taken of it? 

Daughter. Most likely I did, for I was dead." 

The action of this "stuff" of Shakespeare is most beautifully 
typical of chloroform; and had we the slightest evidence that a 
drug of that character had ever existed as such, save in the fertile 
brain of the greatest writer of the world, we well might doubt the 
priority of discovery of anaesthesia by both Morton and Wells. 
" It ivill stupefy and dull the sense awhile, hut there is no danger in 
what show oj death it makes more than the locking up the spirits a 
time." 

It seems that Shakespeare's wonderful mind not only compre- 
hended matters of the past, — imbibed the ideas of his present, but 
with prophetic grasp anticipated the most important events which 



PHARMACOLOGIA. 155 

were to transpire ages after he ceased to be. In reference to the 
action of the drug of Cornelius on the human body, it will be 
remembered that when Imogen set out on her trip to Milford Haven, 
Pisanio presented her with a box, saying that it was from the queen, 
and extolling its virtues — a dram of it being sufficient to drive 
away distempers. She arrived at the cave of Belarius in an ex- 
hausted condition, where she says to herself, " I should be sick, 
but that my resolution helps me ; I am not very sick, since I can 
reason of it;" — whilst again directly, after being left alone, she 
continues: "I am sick still; heart sick. — Pisanio, I'll now taste of 
thy drug." The scene then occurs in which after the return from 
the hunt and the encounter with Cloten, they find Imogen in her 
stupor, and suppose her dead — her face being like the "pale prim- 
rose." 

Belarius. "How found you him? (her.) 

Arviragus. Stark, as you see." (^He had brought the body in in 
his arms.) She then awaked as if from slumber, and anathematizes 
the good old Pisanio for giving her the box, in these words : " The 
drug he gave me, which, he said, was precious and cordial to me, 
have I not found it murderous to the senses?" 

There is one assertion in the last quotation which would make the 
identity of the article used to be chloroform, and distinguish it 
from chloral, and that is, that the body was stark. It was pale also, 
another proof of chloroform. 



CHAPTER V. 



ETIOLOGY. 



Prefatory — Wine for an ague — Objects of commiseration — A promise re- 
deemed — Icy burning — A marsliy residence — Magna charta — Allegorical — 
An idea of antiquity— "Would to bed " — " Falstaff, he is dead " — Congestive 
chill — Gad's-hill — Prince Henry and his "pals"— This man has become a 
god — Is Brutus sick? — Acerbity — The Appian Way — Foes to life — Malaria 
as a demoralizing agent — Cross gartering — The tourniquet as a remedy- 
Same as a cause of disease — Farewell to neuralgia — Brunonianism. 

In summing up the material which Shakespeare furnishes us as a 
causation of disease we do not find much that is explicit or definite, 
and perhaps the matter could as well have been arranged under 
some other title as appropriately as that under which we have ar- 
ranged it. There is one element connected with the matter which 
goes to make the chapter, however, that presents itself so promi- 
nently that it cannot well be placed under any other heading than 
the one given, — and that is malaria. If I chance, however, to 
introduce ideas in this connection which the reader may find irrele- 
vant, I beg that he will remember the difficulty one must necessarily 
encounter in arranging the ideas of a non-medical person to make 
them strictly conform to scientific order. Hoping that my apology 
may be clearly comprehended and appreciated, I shall at once 
enter upon the subject matter proper to the text. 

We find allusion to malaria first in " The Tempest, "A. ii., S. ii., 
thus: 

Calibaii. " All the infections that the sun sucks up from bogs, 
fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him by inch-meal a disease!" 
whilst in the latter portion of the same scene, there is faithfully 
portrayed an occurrence which may be witnessed any August day 
in the malarial districts of our own south and west. It is the place 
where the malingering Caliban was thought by the drunken butler, 

156 



ETIOLOGY. 157 

Stephano, to have, " as I lake it, an ague ; he's in his fit now, and 
does not talk after the wisest. He shall taste of my bottle : if he 
have never drank wine afore, it will go near to remove his fit ; if 
all the wine in my bottle will recover him, I will help his ague." 
This is but in accord with the popular notion of to-day, i. e. — that 
alcoholic stimulation or alcoholic sedation rather is a sine qua non in 
the treatment of some conditions dependent upon miasmatic poison- 
ing; — not only that its good effects are manifested in some ex- 
treme conditions arising from that cause, but that " whisky" is a 
prophylactic for malaria. 

The medical profession in this part of the country, I presume, 
is also fully persuaded of its value in these cases, as during a dis- 
cussion upon typho-malarial fever, in the St. Joseph Medical So- 
ciety, a few evenings since, it was claimed by members of large 
experience in managing such cases, that alcoholics are indispensable 
to the best treatment of the most dangerous of malarial poisoning 
cases — is good at all times and in all forms of Autumnal fevers 
which have marsh poisons as their cause. Not only is it good in 
malarial diseases of all grades and at all times, but that in typhoid 
fevers it is claimed by an eminent medical friend of my own to be 
antidotal to the etiological agent, and counteracts its influence just as, 
or in a similar manner as does it in the poison of the rattlesnake. 

"My wind, cooling my broth, would blow me to an ague fit," — 
" Merchant of Venice," A. i., S. i., is of no special import, but, 
" he will look as hollow as a ghost, as dim and meagre as an ague 
fit," in "King John," A. iii., S. iii., has grounds for reflection in 
it as conveying a good portrait of one laboring under ague. They 
are always objects of commiseration. In Richard the Second, 
A. ii., S. i., we see the words, " a lunatic lean-witted fool, presum- 
ing on an ague's privilege." These words were those of Richard 
himself in criticism of some plain words used by the former king, 
John of Gaunt, when he "breathed his last in wholesome counsel to 
his unstaid youth." 

In this quotation we have it plainly asserted that John had an 
ague even at the hour of his dissolution, — the truth of which I fully 
acquiesce in after making a diagnosis from his symptoms and the 
previous history of the case. We stated in the chapter preceding 
this, whilst noting this case under the heading of toxicology, that 
although it was claimed by the persons about the king at the time 
of his last illness, and also by the king himself, that he had been 



158 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 



poisoned by a monk, yet we did not coincide in that view regarding 
the king's malady ; and that in a future portion of the book we 
would endeavor to present logical grounds for our opinion : in the 
following pages we propose to make good that promise. 

The case of King John, bears a much closer analogy to a case 
wherein the hand of nature has been instrumental in saturating the 
system with poison, than does it to one in which a "villainous 
monk" had been the instrument. Miasmatic exhalations had no 
doubt wrought the evil in this case. "None of you will bid the 
winter come, to thrust his icy fingers in my maw; nor let my king- 
dom's rivers take their course through my burn'd bosom; nor entreat 
the noo'th to make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips, and comfort 
me with cold. There is so hot a summer in my bosom, that all my bow- 
els crumble up to dust; against this fire, 1 shrink up." To this must 
be added the fact that he had been sick before, as will be remembered 
by his language on the battle-field, " Ah me ! this tyrant fever burns 
me up," and '•'■this fever that hath troubled me so long, lies heavy 
on me; weakness possesseth me and I am faint." 

In the most deadly forms of pernicious fever there is no symptom 
so horrible to the patient as this sense of burning heat ; this is his 
agonizing torment when he is pulseless and his skin is icy cold — 
nay his breath is even cold, and his surface as blue and lifeless 
as the body of him who already tenants the grave, — the thermo- 
meter showing at the same time a great reduction in the normal 
temperature of the patient's body, whilst the oppressive internal 
congestions make him clamor for air, air ; — bring him to the win- 
dow, door, — into the yard, orchard, anywhere so that he may have 
air! and the exclamation often is, ' O! that I had a river of cold 
water running through me ! lam burning up.' In all these ma- 
larial cases an unbearable burning sensation or pain in the stomach 
is one of the most distressing concomitants. Hence the exclama- 
tion, " Bid the winter come to thrust his icy fingers in my maw." 
Quinine is the only prompt and infallible agent for this symptom : 
opium, water, ice, etc., are good, but quinine is the cure. He had 
been sick a time before his last severe illness, and withal inhabited a 
marshy district, between the discharge of two considerable rivers — 
the Wash and the Humber, where the surface is so low that the ocean 
has in many places to be kept at bay by dikes, and where, to this 
day, thousands upon thousands of acres of the country are kept 
only for the support of the vast flocks of geese, both domestic and 



^ 



ETIOLOGY. 159 

wild, which feed upon them. Moors and fen-lands characterise 
Lincolnshire to-day, after all the efforts with money and labor to re- 
claim it from the sea ; and when we go back to the twelfth century, 
we ought surely to find it as malarial as the Pontine marsh of Italy, 
or the sloughs of our own Mississippi. In this district it is that lie 
buried the bones of Catharine Swinford, the wife of John of Gaunt ; 
and in this district, at Newark on the Trent, died John, in the year 
1216, at the age of forty-nine years. He signed the Great Charter 
the year before — 1215. 

The probable cause of the great dramatist's placing the death of 
John to the account of a monk, and that with poison, originates in 
the fact of there having been a great antagonism existing between 
John and the Roman church, — an antagonism which finally resulted 
in the complete and humble — nay servile submission of John. This 
perhaps is construed into a simile of real physical death — the poison 
represented by Shakespeare's own disdain for the Romish faith — 
that is if matters in religion ever gave him any concern at all. 

Shakespeare, however, has managed the symptomatology of the 
€ase with such a masterly skill, that it might puzzle the most astute 
diagnostician of our time, — even his countryman, the great Watson 
himself, to say whether, from the symptoms, the king died with 
poison or malarial fever ; — because they are sometimes very much 
alike. 

The term "ague-fit of fear" is used by Richard the Second 
illustratively, whilst in the first part of Henry the Fourth, A. iii., 
S. i., Hotspur uses the term ague in the same sense — that is, to 
illustrate an idea; also in A. iv., S. i., of same play, he uses the 
words, " worse than the sun in March, this praise doth nourish 
agues;" thus pointing to the fact, that the notion yet prevalent 
among the mass of mankind that to bask in the sun at spring-time 
is to propagate agues, certainly can boast of antiquity as a basis, 
whether the idea itself be false or true. Sunlight alone never 
"nourished agues," whether in March or August, directly; the 
proximate principle in its causation, — malaria, however, doubtless 
is generated by the action of solar heat in conjunction with other 
agents, and, thus, if at all responsible, being so in a very round- 
about way. 

In King Henry the Fifth, we have a most artistic description of 
the influence of marsh poison in the case of the demise of Sir John 
Falstaff. He is first announced as " very sick, and would to bed," 



160 SHAKESPEAKE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

by the boy at the house of Mrs. Quickly, who requests Nyra, one 
of Falstaff' s followers, to " come in quickly to Sir John; ah! poor 
heart, he is so shaked of a burning quotidian tertian, that it is most 
lamentable to behold ;" and further on, in concluding the career of 
this — one of the most marked characters that has ever figured in 
dramatic composition, Pistol urges the boy to " bristle his courage 
up, for Falstaff he is dead, and we must yearn therefore." 

Bardolph. " Would I were with him, wheresome'er he is, either 
in heaven or in hell. 

Mrs. Quickly. Nay, sure, he's not in hell: he's in Arthur's 
bosom. 'A made a fine end and went away, and it had been any 
Christian child ; 'a parted ev'n just between twelve and one, ev'n at 
the turning o' the tide: for after I saw him fumble with the sheets, 
and play with flowers, and smile upon his finger's end, I knew there 
was but one way ; for his nose was as sharp as a pen on a table 
of green freize. How now, Sir John ? quoth I : what, man ! be of 
good cheer. So 'a cried out — 'God, God, God!' three or four 
times ; now I, to comfort him, bid him, 'a should not think of God ; 
I hoped, there was no need to trouble himself with such thoughts 
yet. So 'a bade me lay more clothes on his feet: I put my hand 
into the bed, and felt them, and the}^ were as cold as any stone ; 
then I felt to his knees, and so upward, and all was as cold as any 
stone." 

There are certainly many of the details which go to form the 
symptomatology of congestive chill omitted in this history ; but 
enough are present to show us that it is a fair picture of that 
malady — just as the practiced eye can tell the malady at the first 
glance, without asking previous history, in a case to which he may 
be called, in the miasmatic regions of our own and other countries. 
We regard miasm as the cause of the symptoms and death in the 
case above related as evidenced not only by the history and symp- 
toms, but also by the habits, circumstances and age of the patient, — 
typhoid fever, with the which it would more likely be confounded, 
happening very seldom in a person of Falstaff' s age, whilst it will 
also be rememberod that the haunts of Prince Henry and his noto- 
rious "pals" were in the county of Kent, about Rochester and 
Gad's-hill, — the surface of the country being low and covered in 
many places with swamps and forests. Of the million and forty- 
one thousand acres composing this county, nine hundred thousand 
are meadows and arable land, — even the Kentish and Surrey por- 



ETIOLOGY. 161 

tion of the city of London lying in many places several feet below 
the highest tides. I think it is somewhere said that in former 
years this portion of London was often subject to malarial fevers 
of a severe type, though it is against the rule for this to be so in 
cities generally. 

"Ague" stayed the Duke of Buckingham "a prisoner in his 
chamber" on an important occasion; and Patroclus allows (in 
Troilus and Cressida) that " those wounds heal ill which men do 
give themselves" — an assertion acknowledged by the whole medical 
world, and which has, perhaps, a better foundation for its truth 
than has the next — which says that " danger, like an ague, subtly 
taints." Coriolanus likens fear to an ague also, whilst we find an 
animated discussion of Caesar's merits between Cassius arid Brutus 
in this language : 

Cassius. " And this man is now become a god ; and Cassius is a 
wretched creature, and must bend his body, if Caesar carelessly but 
nod to him. 

He had a fever when he was in Spain, and when the fit was on 
him, I did mark how he did shake: 'tis true, this god did shake: 
his coward lips did from their color fly ; and that same eye, whose 
bend doth awe the world, did lose his lustre. I did hear him groan ; 
ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans mark him, and 
write his speeches in their books, alas ! it cried, ' Give me some 
drink, Titinius,' as a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me, a man 
of such a feeble temper doth get the start of the majestic world, 
and bear the palm alone." Now when the matter is considered in 
all its relations, we have in this extract another case arising from 
marsh poison — palpable, plain, unmistakable. We find a case 
something on the same order in that of Brutus himself, when his 
wife Portia uses this language : "Is Brutus sick, and is it physical, 
to walk unbrac'd, and suck up the humors of the dank morning? 
What! is Brutus sick, and will he steal out of his wholesome bed 
to dare the vile contagion of the night, and tempt the rheum and 
unpurged air to add unto his sickness?" and when met in the senate 
chamber on the day of the assassination, Caesar jocularly assures 
Brutus that he is not so much his enemy as " that same ague which 
hath made him lean," and he then invites Brutus and the others to 
drink some wine, with the view perhaps to neutralize the acerbity 
which he knew to be present in their bosoms. 

The neighborhood of Rome, where this scene transpired, is note- 



162 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

riously the most malarial district in Europe. The poison of the 
Pontine marsh, before referred to, is so pestilential in its concen- 
tration, that an unacclimated person passing the great " Appian 
Way" fi'om Rome to Naples at night time, and in the hot season 
of the year, may imbibe enough to dangerously compromise his 
existence. 

Macbeth, in his extremity, while shut up in his castle at Dunsi- 
nane, thought to resort to the very common expedient of exter- 
minating his enemies by drawing them into pestilential districts, 
there to be prey'd upon silentlj'^ by " pale distemperatures and foes 
to life," as 'twas said by many would be the fate of the Union 
soldiers on our southern coasts during our civil war. In the stead 
of the yellow fever, which was relied upon to do its share in per- 
petuating the reign of " King Cotton," Macbeth placed his reliance 
on the same unreliable alliance, and depended upon "ague" to 
" eat them up," — A. iv., S. v. 

Lear prays thus to be avenged upon his undutiful daughter, 
Goneril: "You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames into 
her scornful eyes ; infect her beauty, you fen-suck' d fogs, drawn 
by the powerful sun, to fall and blast her pride." 

I do not know of an agent more potent to ravish beauty of its 
charms, than a residence in a malarial locality. Marsh poison 
blights — "subtly taints" the whole vital economy, and renders 
those reared mid its foul pollutions dull and the victims to hebetude, 
mentally, physically and morally. The latter assertion may seem 
queer to those who know nothing of malarial districts and their 
people; but I know from experience that what I assert is true; — 
they are as a general proposition lacking in the moral principles, so 
much so that physicians are commonly loth to attend the best of 
them, as he expects to realize little or nothing for his services ; and 
I have never seen a sprightly physical or mental organization reared 
from infancy to adult age in such an atmosphere. 

"This does make some obstruction in the blood, this cross-gar- 
tering " — so says Malvolio in "Twelfth Night," — A. iii., S. iv. 
The custom among the women of civilized countries, of ligating or 
constricting the legs in keeping their hose in place, is no doubt pro- 
ductive of serious evils. It has been suggested as an expedient 
worthy of trial in cases of retarded or suppressed menstruation — 
and also in puerperal eclampsia, to resort to ligation of the thighs 
(arms also, in the latter), in the first to throw the force of the sys 



ETIOLOGY. 163 

temic circulation upon the pelvic organs more directly, and in the 
latter to cut off transiently a supply of blood to the brain, but not 
to lose it to the system at large, as would be done in direct ab- 
straction. Now, if there is any just ground for such a theory as 
the above, it follows as a necessity that there would be conditions 
in which this practice would be inadmissible, and where its adoption 
would be hurtful. These cases might be enumerated somewhat in 
the following order : menorrhagia, cases prone to abortion, pla- 
centa previa, all cases of hemorrhagic diathesis, in rectitis, hemor- 
rhoids, cystitis, metritis, nephritis, cellulitis, etc., etc., as connected 
with the pelvis, whilst varix, phlebitis, etc., might result to the 
extremities themselves. These are not all, but convulsive con- 
ditions themselves may be engendered from this cause as effectually 
as from a loaded rectum and gravid womb, provided the condition 
is forcibly persisted in ; and, again, the blood so impeded in a free 
circulation through its normal channels becomes itself a toxic ma- 
terial. 

These considerations should be held sufficient for placing the 
S3'^stem of "gartering" among our women in the same category 
with tight-lacing, low-neck dresses and high-heeled shoes. Let 
them all go down to oblivion together, and the days of hysteria, 
"palpitations" and neuralgias will in a great measure take their 
departure. 

In "Twelfth Night" also, we find the term " Brownist " used 
in a sense of derision. A foot-note in the edition from which we 
quote says that the Brownists were a sect (whether in medicine, or 
what, is not stated), afterwards called the "Independents," who 
were much ridiculed by the writers of the time. This perhaps had 
reference to the followers of John Brown, an Englishman (not, how- 
ever, the lately departed "friend" of Queen Victoria), who held 
to the opinion that the proximate cause of all fevers was nothing 
more than a general depression of the vital powers of the whole 
body, and that treatment based upon that supposition was the only 
rational method. These ideas were vehemently assailed by Brous- 
sais and his followers, who declared that fevers were all sympto- 
matic — that they had their origin in a preceding local lesion, and 
that therefore the treatment must be shaped to suit the altered 
pathology. 

The term "devouring pestilence hangs in the air" is found in 
Richard the Second, but is of no significance in its application 
to Shakespeare's medical knowledge. 



CHAPTER VI, 



DERMATOLOGY. 



The beginning — Serpigo — A voluminous curse — Was it small-pox? — The 
cursed hebenon — Acarus scabiei — The disease in Paris — Falstaff as a 
" wen" — Kibes — Probably vaccinated — A string of rhymes — Good fruit only 
from a good tree — Transmissibility of defects — Gynaecological phenomena — 
The " convulsive zone" — Spreading it on "thick" — Rouge and pearl pow- 
ders — 'Tis beauty truly blent — Commendable caution — Danger in the dark — 
A fastidious scoundrel — Supposition strengthened — We catch of you, Doll — 
Baths in syphilis — Ricord and Bumstead — A beautiful picture — Durability of 
a tanner — A curious but not creditable truth — A needed reform — Venesection 
in the right iliac fossa. 

For the sake of convenience, and to avoid a multiplication of 
short but separate classifications, all diseases affecting the super- 
fices of the body noticeably, will be considered under the above 
caption. This will necessarily bring into close proximity affections 
of a very diverse pathology — some which might be very properly 
classed under other heads perhaps had we more material of the 
same kind — but many of the subjects touched upon are in them- 
selves very brief, and though demanding their share of attention, 
yet are too short for any purpose save condensation or incorporation 
into an article general in its character ; for this reason, and also 
because syphilis almost always involves the cutaneous structures to 
a greater or less extent, it will likewise be noticed in connection 
with dermatologic medicine. 

" Serpigo" is an affection of the skin of the " tetter" family, — 
sometimes seemingly related more closely to the " herpetic" group ; 
it is mentioned in "Measure for Measure" and also in "Troilus 
and Cressida," where Therestes uses it in his maledictions upon 
the managers of the siege of Troy ; and the same character, whose 
tongue was caustic as a red-hot scalpel, in his wrangle with Patro- 
clus, talks thus: 

164 



DERMATOLOGY. 165 

Therestes. " Why, thy masculine whore. Now, the rotten dis- 
eases of the south, the guts-griping, ruptures, catarrh, loads o' 
gravel i' the back, lethargies, cold palsies, raw eyes, dirt-rotten 
livers, wheezing lungs, bladders full of imposthume, sciaticas, lime- 
kilns i' the palm, incurable bone-ache, and the riveled fee-simple of 
the tetter, take and take again such preposterous discolourers. 

Patrodus. Why, thou damnable box of envy, thou, what meanest 
thou to curse thus? " 

This quotation, although containing a little of everything, could 
not be separately stated, and we therefore give it for what it is 
worth. The ghost of Hamlet's father in his story of how he was 
most foully murdered by his brother and his own queen, speaks of 
a " loathsome crust:" 

Ghost. "But, soft; methinks, I scent the morning air : brief let 
me be. — Sleeping within my orchard, my custom alway in the after- 
noon, upon my secure hour thy uncle stole, with juice of cursed 
hebenon in a phial, and in the porches of mine ears, did pour the 
leprous distillment ; whose effects holds such an enmity with the 
blood of man that swift as quicksilver, it courses through the 
natural gMes and alleys of the body ; and with a sudden vigor it 
doth posset, and curd, like sour droppings into milk, the thin and 
wholesome blood: so did it mine: and a most instant tetter bark'd 
about, most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust all my smooth 
body." 

There are few morbific agents which will strictly answer in every 
particular the characteristics of the contents of the phial, in this 
case. It must have been some powerful animal toxic, similar to, 
or identical with the virus of small-pox ; the only plea which could 
be deducted against this hypothesis, from the quotation itself, 
being the " sudden vigor " with which it acted. This, however, is 
an indefinite assertion, and " sudden " might be a week or ten 
days in one case, whilst it might be only a few moments or hours 
in another. 

It is possible that the word " hebenon " may have had a meaning 
similar to our "narcotism" or "narcotic," and that it was used 
this time in relation to the supposed effects upon the system, — the 
term likely having its origin in the word " hebes " — dull, obtuse, 
heavy, sluggish. Hebenon is not found in any lexicon to which I 
have access. The " itch mite " intrudes itself upon our notice in 



166 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

*' Romeo and Juliet." — "Her wagoner, a small gray-coated gnat, 
not half so big as a round, little worm pick'd from the finger of a 
milk-maid." The arachnoid insect, known among naturalists as 
the acarus scabiei or common itch insect, is here certainly referred 
to. It was formerly supposed that this parasite found its way into 
the human skin from many of the animal species, as the dog, and 
others of our domestic animals. Several persons in Paris were said 
to have contracted the disease whilst attending upon a diseased 
camel. We see in the extract that milk-maids were thought to 
suffer from it, which would give us to think it communicable from 
the cow, if we agree with the text. There is an insect somewhat 
akin to the one under notice, which infests cheese, but it never 
affects the human or animal system. The true acarus scabiei is 
now universally believed to be propagated through raw or brown 
cane sugar; hence the term "finger of a grocer's maid" would in 
truth have been more appropriate in the case in question than was 
that of milk-maid. The vaccine disease, afterwards so thoroughly 
studied by Jenner, may have fallen under the notice of Shakespeare, 
and it may be that to this he refers in the quotation. This would 
get the itch and cow-pox only a little mixed. "Hal," afterwards 
Henry the Fifth, likens Falstaff to a " wen." 

Prince Henry. (To Poins.J "I do allow this wen to be as 
familiar with me as my dog;" and again in "Merry Wives of 
Windsor:" 

Falstaff. " Well, sir, I am almost out at heels. 

Pistol. Why then let kibes ensue." 

We recognize no such a malady as "kibes" in our modern 
nosology ; but in former times it was in use, and meant to " chap" 
or crack open from cold, as in chilblains. The term is said to be 
of Persian origin, — the affection being, as intimated by Pistol, most 
common about the heels. 

"You rub the sore, when you should bring the plaster — and, 
most chirurgeously." — " The Tempest." 

"To strange sores, strangely they strain the cure." — "Much 
Ado About Nothing." Was the elastic bandage here presaged? 

Thersites tells us what he knew about boils, as does also Coriola- 
nus in his anathemas upon his ungrateful countrymen. Timon of 
Athens speaks of " ulcerous sores," whilst Charmian, in " Antony 
and Cleopatra," excuses herself from a game of billiards on the 
score of a sore arm. (Wonder if she hadn't been vaccinated.) 



DERMATOLOGY. 167 

The following extract is from " A Midsummer Night's Dream:" 

" So shall all the couples three, 
Ever true in loving be ; 
And the blots of Nature's hand 
Shall not in their issue stand : 
Never mole, hare-lip, nor scar. 
Nor mark prodigious, such as are 
Despised in nativity, 
Upon their children be." 

And in "Cymbeline:" " On her left breast a mark cinque-spotted, 
like the crimson drops i' the bottom of a cowslip," and " upon his 
neck a mole, a sanguine star: it was a mark of wonder." 

In speculating upon the first of these extracts, it may be re- 
marked that the " fates " probably understood few of the " tricks 
that are not vane" in the hands of nature, — if they had, it is 
hardly probable that so rash a promise as that their children should 
possess neither " mole, blot nor scar," would have been made, — 
as it is an unalterable fact that to have sound fruit we must have 
perfect parentage ; jparents who are either morally, mentally or 
physically imperfect may transmit their characteristics to their 
progeny, and it seems to be an established fact as regards acquired 
imperfections as well as those that are inherent in individuals : thus 
crop your dog's tall, and his offspring may appear minus the caudal 
appendage, — if not in the first or second — may be in the third gen- 
eration — atavism. This will happen the more surely if both the 
male and female parents be so treated. Blumenbach remembered a 
man whose little finger of the right hand was left crooked after an 
injury ; several of his sons at birth had the identical deformity in 
their right hand. Two brothers at Brussels were micropthalmic 
in the left eye ; their father had lost the left eye fifteen years be- 
fore his marriage. A lady at Dover, England, was frightened by a 
ferret whilst enciente; every child born after that had eyes like the 
animal, and they all became blind, or nearly so, at the age of pu- 
berty. Brown-Sequard noted a case where a man became epileptic 
after a fall in which the dorsal vertebrae were shattered ; he mar- 
ried and his son became epileptic, though there had not before been 
epilepsy in the family previous to the father's injury. I myself 
know a circumstance where the mother, and daughters in three gen- 
erations following, — that is to say, from child to great grandmother, 



168 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

each had a small encysted tumor of the scalp exactly in the same 
situation, and all of the same nature. But the most beautiful and 
satisfactory results of this power of transmission are seen in the 
inferior animals, where many of the traits may be directly propa- 
gated from one living and mature being to another mature being, — 
of the same species or not, and afterwards these characteristics 
may be transmitted to the progeny. This is illustrated by the 
stripes on the shoulders and legs of the horse colt when the mother 
has previously borne mules ; and is sometimes also seen in the hu- 
man family when the children of a second husband resemble in 
physical, mental or moral traits the mother's former husband. 
Through the relation of parentage the husband and wife may also 
impress upon each other their peculiarities — as in becoming to re- 
semble each other in personal appearance, tastes, habits, mental 
traits, etc. Association, in young married people, together with 
the identity of conditions of physical and mental growth, may con- 
tribute to this end, but for its most complete attainment they must 
have "mingled bloods" in the great office of propagation. But 
as I started out to say before, these strange powers of transmission 
are best seen in the lower orders of animal creation, — as for in- 
stance in the guinea-pig. 

Experiments upon nervous phenomena by Dr. Brown-Sequard 
show that in the guinea-pig exposure of the spinal cord, or severe 
injury to a large nerve trunk, will be followed by convulsions by 
irritating what he calls the " epileptic zone," — a small spot of skin 
near the ear. In animals before mentioned as having received a 
nervous injury, convulsions may be produced at the pleasure of the 
experimenter by touching this special point of the cutaneous sur- 
face. When recovery of the injured nerve takes place, the hair 
always falls from the "convulsive zone;" — but what I more par- 
ticularly wished to notice is the fact that the young of these epi- 
leptic animals, brought forth after recovery, have the same epileptic 
seizures, and recovery is preceded by falling off of the hair in pre- 
cisely the same place ! And further, — he remarked that the ani- 
mals under experiment often eat off the toes of a paralyzed limb, 
and that in the young of the toeless father or mother the progeny 
would also appear with the same member missing ! This is a cu- 
rious and interesting subject, and merits the close attention of the 
physiologist and gynaecologist. 

It appears that aesthetics received a proper share of attention in 



DERMATOLOGY. 169 

past ages, as well as in this present "fast" age of the world. 
" Timon of Athens " in his misanthropic rage talks thus: 

"Whore still: paint till a horse may mire upon your face," and 
in " Cymbeline " he speaks of " some jay of Italy, who smothers 
her with painting, hath betrayed him," thus giving us information 
to the effect that the "rouge" and "pearl powders" found their 
votaries in old times as they do to-day, mainly among the demi 
moyide. That sensible people then looked upon the custom of 
"painting" as they now do, we may infer from a passage in 
" Twelfth Night : " 

Olivia. "Have you any commission from your lord to negotiate 
with my face? We will draw the curtain and show you the picture. 
Look, you, sir ; such a one I am at this present : is't not well done? 

Viola. (In the garb of a youth.) Excellently done, if God did 
all. 

Olivia. 'Tis ingrain, sir; 'twill indure wind and weather. 

Viola. 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white nature's 
own sweet cunning hand laid on. Lady, you are the crudest she 
alive, if you will lead those graces to the grave, and leave the 
world no copy." 

The term " let her paint an inch thick," is also used, which tells 
us that the habit of "spreading it on heavy " was perhaps not a 
strange proceeding to the " ancient fair," whilst the same is hinted 
at by " Clown " in " Measure for Measure." 

The second portion of this chapter, as previously intimated, will 
be devoted to the consideration of syphilography. 

In "Measure for Measure" Lucio, the fantastic, in conversation 
with two gentlemen : 

1st Gentleman. "Do I speak feelingly? 

Lucio. I think thou dost ; and, indeed, with most powerful feel- 
ing of speech: I will, out of mine own confession, learn to begin 
thy health ; but, whilst I live, forget to drink after thee. 

1st Gentleman. I think I have done myself wrong, have I not? 

2d Gentleman. Yes, thou hast, whether thou art tainted or free. 

Lucio. Behold, behold, where Madam Mitigation comes ! 

1st Gentleman. I have purchased as many diseases under her 
roof, as comes to 

2d Gentleman. To what, I pray ? 



170 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

Lucio. Judge. 

2d Gentleman. To three thousand dollars a-year. 

1st Gentleman. Ay, and more. 

Lucio. A French crown more. 

2d Gentleman. Thou art always figuring diseases in me ; but 
thou art full of error : I am sound. 

Lucio. Nay, not as one would say healthy ; but so sound as 
things that are hollow : thy bones are hollow ; impiety hath made a 
feast of thee." 

In the first paragraph of the foregoing it will be perceived that 
direct reference is made to the throat lesion of secondary syphilis, 
the lesion of articulation, and the danger incident to drinking after 
(from the same vessel) a person so contaminated is almost directly 
stated. Lucio proved his own wisdom in that matter, if he knew 
nothing else of value ; and his determination to always forget to 
drink after the gentleman is worthy to be imitated by every think- 
ing person. Indeed /have long practiced the habit of avoiding all 
places of public resort for the purpose of taking a drink of water, 
because syphilitic and other loathsome affections often cling to the 
lips and fingers of those resorting to them ; particularly is the 
syphilitic poison wide-spread among the transient portion of man- 
kind ; and one does not know what moment he might innocently 
place this the most loathsome contagion to his lips, by the use of a 
public dipper, or by the hand-towel in the wash-room of an hotel. 

The ravages made by pock upon the osseous system seems to 
have been clearly comprehended by Shakespeare, from the language 
used at the conclusion of the extract ; and though the disease had 
then been of comparatively recent introduction into Europe (it is 
claimed from America), yet it had been pretty thoroughly studied 
we may suppose from this apparent familiarity with it by the un- 
professional. 

This same pedantic fellow, Lucio, in a conversation with the 
Duke thua demeans himself. (Duke in disguise.) 

Lucio. " I was once before him (the duke) for getting a wench 
with child. 

Duke. Did you such a thing? 

Lucio. Yes, marry did I; but I was fain to forswear it: they 
would else have married me to the rotten medlar." ('Twould have 
been too good for him.) 



DERMATOLOGY. 171 

Falstaff's quandary as to whether he was afflicted with gout or 
syphilis has been touched upon in the chapter on neurology ; 
in the remarks there made, it is stated that notwithstanding the 
fact of the pain which gave rise to the thought, being situated in 
the great toe in place of the " shin," yet knowing the lascivious 
habits of "Sir John," and the exceedingly diverse phases which 
syphilitic lesions assume, we were inclined to believe " a gout o' 
this pox " true in this case of the " knight." We are strengthened 
in the position there taken, by the following conversation: 

Falstaff. " How now. Mistress Doll ? 

Hostess. Sick of a calm : yea, good sooth. 

Falstaff. So is all her sex ; an they be once in a calm, they are 
sick. 

Doll. You mauddy rascal, is that all the comfort you give me? 

Falstaff. You make fat rascals. Mistress Doll. 

Doll. I make them? Gluttony and diseases make them : I make 
them not. 

Falstaff. If the cook helps to make the glutton, you help to 
make the diseases, Doll: we catch of you, Doll, we catch of you ; 
grant that, my virtue, grant that." 

As to the treatment of syphilis it is apparent that local treatment 
in the form of baths must have been common in Shakespeare's 
time if we look to the following in " Timon of Athens : " 

Timon. "Art thou Timandra? 

T'imandra. Yes. 

Timon. Be a whore still ! they love thee not that use thee : give 
them diseases, leaving with thee their lust. Make use of thy 
salt hours ; season the slaves for tubs and baths ; bring down rose- 
cheeked youth to the tub fast, and the diet." 

Perhaps it is the worse for our patients that we do not adopt a 
rigid course of bathing and personal purification in syphilis ; espe- 
cially might it benefit those in whom the cutaneous system is deeply 
involved ; cleanliness is a most God-like virtue, and as a prophylac- 
tic measure — nay often a curative means, its worth is beyond esti- 
mate. 

Eicord, Videlle nor Bumstead could hardly paint a better pen- 
picture of the ravages of syphilis than did this same cynical old 
Timon on another occasion when in conversation with one whom he 
accuses of harlotry. 



172 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHTSICIAN. 

Timon. "Consumption sow in hollow bones of men; strike 
their sharp shins, and mar men's spurring. Crack the lawyer's 
voice, that he may never more false title plead, nor sound his quil- 
lets shrilly ; down with the nose, down with it flat ; take the bridge 
away from him, make curl'd pate ruffians bald; and let the un- 
scarr'd braggarts of the war derive some pain from you." 

There cannot be found in the writings of the ablest medical au- 
thority of this age, a more terse and truthful picture of syphilis 
than is seen in these words of the sour old Timon. His description 
is indeed a marvel of accuracy. Witness the allusion to the throat, 
nasal and other osseous lesions — the fauces, vomer, tibia, etc., being 
special points of involvement in the tertiary state of the malady. 

Hamlet. " How long will a man lie i' the earth ere he rot? 

Clown. ' Faith, if he be not rotten before he die (as we have 
many pocky cases now-a-days, that will scarce hold the lying in), 
he will last you some eight year, or nine year : a tanner will last 
you nine year." 

Thus it is seen that the " owner of a foul disease " (Hamlet, iv., 
i.) is punished even in the solitudes of the grave, by returning to 
dust much more rapidly than do virtuous men. 

Lysimachus, in "Pericles," enquires of the bawd: "How 
now, wholesome iniquity ! have you that a man may deal withal, 
and defy the surgeon? " 

And the same gentleman in his interview with the virtuous 
Marina whose ill-luck had placed her in this den where " no heretics 
were burn'd but wenches' suitors " (Lear, iii., ii.), she assured him 
that " since I came (here), diseases have been sold dearer than 
physic," — a truth which holds good even now whilst I write. It is 
known to every doctor that the degraded scoundrel who gives his 
last five dollars for the privilege of getting the malady will spend 
thirty in trying to evade the payment of the twenty he owes .his 
surgeon for curing him. 

When the medical profession makes it four times as costly for 
this class of patients to get rid of the malady as it is to catch it, 
there will be less need of " contagious disease acts" and "bawdy- 
house inspectors," and all that, — and the service will then only be 
awarded pay according to its worth. There is no class of practice 
in which the fees are so loosely and foolishly conducted as this ; 



DERMATOLOGY. 



173 



and it is to be hoped that medical organizations everywhere will 
sometime make it incumbent upon members always to " bleed" this 
class of patients — not in the " bend of the arm" but in the purse. 
The idea that syphilis may be propagated through the blood of a 
person so affected, and that by microscopic observation we may 
detect in it certain syphilitic characteristics, finds some old footing 
in an assertion made by Andreas Csesalpinus to the effect that when 
the Spaniards abandoned the town of Somma, near Mount Vesu- 
vius, they mixed blood from the patients in the hospital of St. 
Lazarus with all the wine in the place, and thereby infected with 
syphilis all who drank it. This happened early after its alleged 
American origin. The bacterial theory might account for this. 



CHAPTER VII, 



ORGANOLOGY. 



The stomach — Power of mind over function — Voluntary inanition — Its 
Pathology — What a physiologist! — Dietetic ideas of a hostess — An apt com- 
parison — The irritability of hunger — A plain road — An error explained — The 
woodman and his belt— Seat of the affections — Gin-drinker's liver — Cause 
for effect — Smiling at grief — Lewdness and poverty — Illustrated — Sentiment 
reversed — The badge of cowardice — The truth in popular ideas — Then live, 
Macduff — Sleep in spite of thunder — Pulmonary gangrene — Benedick, the 
married man — Thaw'd out — A pertinent conclusion — A blind philosopher — 
How are you 'fraid! — Latent senses — The green flap — Some new infection — 
An enquiry — An amusing incident— " Hal's " vocabulary — Renal functions — 
Sympathetic fibrillae— Carry his water to the wise woman — What says the 
doctor to my water? — A sensible doctor, for a wonder — Changes in the kid- 
ney—Nose painting — A sure sign — Taste not — A cheap article — " When I was 
about thy years, Hal" — The lean and hungry Cassius — He smiles in such a 
sort— Drawing the fire out — A parody— An exploded barbarity — Mr. Strib- 
ling, the druggist — The blood is the life — Blasting a good resolve — Man im- 
proves with his condition — A plea for the lancet— Palpitation — Good air as 
an agent— Much effuse of blood, etc. 

Though not of the most rigidly appropriate character, it is pro- 
posed to include under the title " organology " all subjects pertain- 
ing to the different organs and structures of the body that have not 
before been noticed, and whilst we are aware that the arrangement 
may not escape criticism, we can only ask that he who may find 
fault with it may find the inclination, at some future time, to accom- 
plish the very same task better. 

The first organ to claim our notice is that fundamentally import- 
ant one — the stomach. 

It has been said in a former page, that unquiet meals make ill 
digestions, — the truth of which has forced itself upon the notice of 
most persons, no doubt. It seems that the function of alimentation 
is more closely allied to the proper working condition of the brain and 
nervous system than most other functions of the body. Strong emo- 

174 



ORGANOLOGY. 175 

tional conditions of the mind may not only suspend the normal 
functions of this viscus, — impair them for a time, but may in rare 
instances totally destroy them, Within the last week, a man ar- 
rested and confined in our county jail, on a clear charge of murder, 
refused food from the time of his arrest, until his death took place 
from inanition, — in perfect health, otherwise, seemingly. In these 
cases there is actually no demand for food, from the simple fact 
that the nerves, — the gastric distribution of the parvagum, lose, 
through the powerful mental shock, their proper function, — and 
no hunger is felt. In cases of voluntary abstinence, like that of 
Tanner and others, the freedom from mental perturbation is the 
main factor in their power of indurance, though after a time, this 
same "abstinence" may and does "engender maladies" as its 
sequence, as we have it asserted in "Love's Labor Lost." 

In "Richard the Second," John of Gaunt is made to say — 
"things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour," which would lead 
us to believe that the chemistry of the assimilative process was 
understood by Shakespeare as well as most of our modern phy- 
sicians, — whilst we may exclaim, what a physiologist he might have 
become! This remark may, however, be applied to other appetites 
besides that of the stomach ; and doubtless John only used it as a 
metaphor. 

It appears that in the day of Mrs. Quickly it was not thought 
meet that one tax their digestive powers too far, — and Mrs. Quickly, 
who was an innkeeper, seems to have been one to entertain thoughts 
of so wholesome a kind. We hear her arguments upon this subject 



176 



SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 




" Hal came down on Sir John's pate with a bottle." 

upon an occasion when " Hal" came down on " Sir John's" pate 
with a bottle for likening the king to a singing-man of Windsor. 

Mrs. Quickly. " Thou didst swear to me then, as I was washing 
thy wounds, to marry me, to make me "my lady" thy wife. Canst 
thou deny it? Did not good- wife Keech, the butcher's wife, come 
in then, and call me gossip Quickly? coming in to borrow a mess 
of vinegar? telling us she had a good dish of prawns, whereby 
thou didst desire to eat some, whereby I told thee they were ill for 
a green wound." The term "green wound " is also used in " Henry 
the Fifth," an idea erroneous enough certainly, but part and parcel 
of the notions of that day it appears. 

Henry the Fourth likens the stomach to fortune that gives single- 
handed ; — " she either gives a stomach and no food — such are the 
poor (in purse) ; or else a feast and no appetite, — such are the rich 
that have abundance and enjoy it not : but the illustration of 



ORGANOLOGY. 177 

Menenius, who compares with the digestive system the governor of 
a province, is very good. 

Menenius. "There was a time when all the body's members 
rebell'd against the belly ; thus accus'd it: 

That only like a gulf did it remain i' the midst of the body, idle 
and inactive, still cupboarding the viands, never bearing like labour 
with the rest ; where the other instruments did see and hear, devise, 
instruct, walk, feel, and mutually participate, did minister unto the 
appetite, and affection common to the whole body. 

The belly answered. — 

Citizen. Well, sir, what answer made the belly? 

Menenius. I will tell you, if you will bestow a small (of what 
you have a little) patience awhile, you'll hear the belly's answer. 

Citizen. Y' are long about it. 

Menenius. Note me this, good friend ; your most grave belly 
was deliberate, not rash like his accusers, and answered : ' True is 
it, my incorporate friends,' quoth he, 'that I receive the general 
food at first, which you do live upon ; and fit it is, because I am 
the storehouse, and the shop of the whole body: but if you do 
remember, I send it through the rivers of your blood, even to the 
heart, the brain, the strongest nerves, and small inferior veins ; 
they all receive from me that natural competency whereby they 
live ;' " and the irritable humor of a hungry man, is given by this 
same Menenius, in good style, in a conversation with Sicinius, one 
of the "tribunes of the people:" 

Menenius. "He was not taken well (meaning that he was not 
approach'd at the proper time) ; he had not dined : the veins unfill'd, 
our blood is cold, and then we pout upon the morning, are unapt 
to give or to forgive ; but when we have stuffed these pipes, and 
these conveyances of blood with wine and feeding, we have suppler 
souls than in our priest-like fasts : therefore, I'll watch him till he 
be dieted to my request, and then I'll set upon him. 

Brutus. You know the very road into his kindness, and cannot 
lose your way." 

It is quoted by Darwin, as the saying of a certain physician, that 
this irritability of temper so conspicuously noticeable in a hungry 
man, is often converted by him, unconsciously, into actual anger — 
in or by which state he is stimulated into a more bearable condition, 
both mentally and physically. 



178 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. ^ 

This same authority tells us a truth but partially when he says 
that " good digestion waits on appetite, and health on both," 
because it is well known that there is often an abundance of appe- 
tite with no digestion at all ; — yet we admit the truth of the latter 
portion of the paragraph, as healthy appetite attended by good 
digestion are the almost certain concomitants of good health. 

It seems that the great author was in error as to the modus 
operandi of a dinner in producing a placid mind ; it cannot be 
the "filling of the vein " — neither the "stuffing of the pipes and 
conveyances," as a result of drinking and feasting, which bring 
about this praiseworthy result, for in that event it would only be 
manifested some hours perhaps after meals, whereas it usually 
supervenes very speedily after a sumptuous dinner. I suspect that 
it is this gastric division of the "eighth pair" that here again 
raises the quarrel, and that the savory viands very soon apply their 
pacifying antidote to the millions of its fibrillse which ramify upon 
the inner or mucous coating of the stomach ; these same victuals 
perhaps also acting mechanically in some degree in producing the 
same effect, — and thus for once transforms a cross and oft-times 
unreasonable nondescript into a benign and pleasant husband and 
gentleman. 

Speaking of the mechanical action of food upon the stomach — it 
will be recollected by the reader that this "pressure" upon the 
nerves and tissues of the organ need not always be made from the 
interior of its cavity ; but that pressure from loitliout will in some 
degree produce the same effect. 

Remember the woodman who prepared himself to be absent at 
his camp a fortnight, and who in the place of food supplied himself 
with a broad leathern belt supplied with buckles and twelve holes ; 
he took up his belt one " hole " each day, and at the end of 
two weeks was as sprightly as the "buck" of his native woods. 

The liver was, by the ancients, supposed to be the seat of the 
affections, and in this fact we have an explanation of B iron's (not 
Byron's) talking of — "this is the liver vein," after having read 
some lines of erotic poetry; the line is found in "Love's Labor 
Lost." 

Gratiano, in "The Merchant of Venice," puts matters in a sen- 
sible shape, thus: " With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come, 
and let my liver rather heat with wine, than my heart cool with 
mortifying groans. Why should a man whose blood is warm within, 



OKGANOLOGY. 



179 



sit like his grand-sire cut in alabaster? sleep when he wakes, and 
creep into the jaundice by being peevish? " 

Here we have an honorable and ancient precedent for "hobnail 
liver," and he who chooses to follow the example can do so without 
the fear of being charged with a design to innovate upon the old 
and well established customs. 





. d.. 




;^>^^M 




'^^^^^^^^^m 


{ 


f ^^m 


u 


!^K^ B 


g ^ 


i j^^^^, « 


V 


^^^^^^H 


m 


^Hvi 


^B 


i^^^HI 


B 


^^S 


^^ 


^^^^^H 



The woodman who prepared himself with a leathern belt. 

In regard to a man's "creeping into jaundice through peevish- 
ness " — the effect is mistaken for the cause; old "Shake" got his 
cart before the horse that once. He had doubtless " let his liver 
heat with wine " on that occasion. This same idea as to the effects 
of excessive alcoholic stimulation upon the liver is seen also in 
"Antony and Cleopatra," A. i., S. ii. ; and the confounding of 
cause and effect named above is corrected in a line in " Troilus and 
Cressida," when he says " what grief hath set the jaundice on 
your cheeks; " 

The idea — erroneous as it is, and though antiquated as the ever- 



180 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

lasting hills, — which makes the liver the seat of love and pusil- 
lanimity, finds many places to crop out in the writings of Shake- 
speare ; of the former, Rosalind gives a negative attest when she 
wishes to " wash the liver of Orlando as clean as a sound sheep's 
heart, that there shall not be one spot of love left in 't," whilst in 
"Twelfth Night" "The Duke" and Viola speculate on the con- 
nexion between the liver and the tender passion in this style : 

Duke. "Alas! their love maybe called appetite, no motion of 
the liver, but the palate, that suffers surfeit, cloyment, and revolt ; 
but mine is hungry as the sea, and can digest as much;" when 
Viola, detailing the depths of her own affections, — she " pin'd in 
thought, and with a green and yellow melancholy, she sat like 
Patience on a monument, smiling at grief." In this we see the 
notion of a close relationship between melancholia and a deranged 
hepatic function. "This wins him, liver and all," says Fabian, 
whilst listening to the reading of the letter by his dupe Malvolio. 
"Put fire in your heart and brimstone in your liver," was another 
of the shrewd suggestions of the same fellow. 

In an allusion to the supposition that lewdness and poverty go 
hand in hand. Prince Henry speaks of "hot livers" and "cold 
purses," and Falstaff, in his wrangle with the Chief Justice, assures 
him that " you, that are old, consider not the capacities of us that 
are young : you measure the heat of our livers with the bitterness 
of your gall." 

Pistol, one of the riotous companions of Sir John, gives us an 
idea as to the causation of hepatitis, in the instance when he informs 
"Knight Falstaff" of the news pertaining to his "Doll," and 
" Hellen of his noble thoughts," — the which thought would " in- 
flame his noble liver," It would be extremely diflficult to say 
what, in a constitution like that of Falstaff, might serve to produce 
an inflamed liver ; if cowardice, love or wine should be considered 
etiologic of liver complaint, we should expect such an unmitigated 
old lout as he to be a continued series of afliictions. 

Leontes in his jealous obliquity remarked that if his " wife's liver 
were infected as her life, she would not live the running of one 
glass." In this quotation we again find sentiment reversed: — 
" Were my wife's life affected as her liver, she would not live the 
running of one glass," would do very well, and would be in har- 
mony with the general tenor of the sentiment on this subject, for 
it will be remembered that he claimed his wife to be in love with 
Polixenes. 



OKGANOLOGT. 181 

Falstaff comes in again as an authority upon the liver question 
as affecting the principles of heroism. He says: "The second 
property of your excellent sherries is, the warming of the blood, 
which, before cold and settled, left the liver white and pale, which 
is the badge of pusillanimity and cowardice." 

The "boy" spoken of before in connection with the demise of 
Sir John Falstaff, speaks of the courage of Bardolph in this light 
vein: "He is white liver 'd and red faced, by the means whereof 
'a faces it out, but fights not," whilst Sir Toby Belch declares of one 
of the characters in " Twelfth Night," that the blood in his liver 
would not clog the foot of a flea. The same notion as to the color 
of the liver under similar circumstances is found in "Richard the 
Third," whilst the term " lily liver' d " in connection with a lack 
of personal courage, is used in both "Macbeth" and "King 
Lear." The notion that anger is productive of an increased physi- 
ological condition of the liver, finds expression in " Henry the 
Eighth," and also in " Troilus and Cressida," A. i., S. iii. 

It is said that most all notions which find credence among the 
public at large, no difference how improbable they may seem to 
those who are better informed, yet have some truth in them ; this, 
no doubt, is the fact in regard to the wide-spread belief that the 
hepatic function is such that it leaves the liver white in all cowards ; 
though here, as in a former instance or two, the confounding of 
effect and cause is apparent. The influence which excited states 
of the mind exert upon the various organs and their functions is 
well known to persons conversant with the science of physiology, — 
and that the liver should bear a prominent share in these derange- 
ments of function we need not be at a loss to suppose when noting 
the important place it holds in the vital economy. That the mental 
emotion denominated fear makes pale also the heart we have evi- 
dence in "Macbeth," who uses tbe memorable words — "Then, 
live, Macduff: what need I fear of thee? But yet I'll make 
assurance doubly sure, and take a bond of fate : thou shalt not live ; 
that I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies, and sleep in spite of thun- 
der." It is not only fear that exercises a depleting influence over 
the liver in Shakespeare's estimation, but he says, in " Troilus and 
Cressida," that " reason and respect make livers pale, and lusti- 
hood deject." "Spotted livers" are noted there also, but seem 
to have no special significance. 

The lungs are spoken of in "The Tempest," where lord Adrian 



182 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

allows " the air breathes upon us here most sweetly," to which 
Sebastian replies — "As if it had lungs, and rotten ones," whilst 
Antonio concludes the fancy by suggesting, " or as 'twere perfumed 
by a fen," — having reference to the very offensive eminations which 
escape from low and marshy grounds during hot weather. 

We find here a connection of the two conditions of the lungs 
which go to constitute a case of that exceedingly rare malady — 
pulmonary gangrene. Whether Shakespeare was reasoning from 
analagous conditions as observed in other decomposing animal 
material, or had been the accidental observer of a case of real 
putrefaction of the lung tissue (progressive, of course), we of 
course have no means of knowing ; but sure it is, he came very 
near the facts for a person who was merely guessing. 

Benedick, "the married man," does not seem to have been so 
fastidious upon the health conditions of the woman he designed to 
make his wife, as would be one of our youths in 1884 ; for whilst 
Beatrice asserted that she only consented to wed him through pity, 
he avers he only took /ter because he had been told she was in a 
consumption! This would go near to be the truth perhaps, if 
Beatrice was old and wealthy, and lived in the United States at this 
era (I mean not the consumption, but the motive). But Beatrice 
had no tuberculosis — only a "whoreson cold, sir; a cough, sir," 
which soon left her when her frigid nature was thaw'd out by the 
workings of her nuptial pleasures. 

The extract relative to the demise of Henry the Fourth, noticed 
in this work in the chapter on neurology, and reading thus : 

" More would I, but my lungs are wasted so, that strength of 
speech is utterly denied me," appears to have been merely predi- 
cated upon a generally exhausted condition of the vital powers 
rather than to have depended upon an actual local pulmonary lesion. 
This conclusion is reached from the fact that no antecedent symptoms 
connected with the case are sufficient to warrant a different one. 

Old Pandarus, who figures quite conspicuously in the courting 
affairs of Troilus and Cressida, "had it bad" if we are to place 
much credence in the old fellow's accuracy of judgment after hav- 
ing our faith so badly shaken in him upon remembering his failures 
on the woman question. He says: "A whorseson phthisic, a whore- 
son rascally phthisic so troubles me, and the foolish fortune of 
this girl ; and what one thing, and what another, that I shall leave 
you one o' these day ; 



ORGANOLOGY. 183 

I'll sweat and seek about for eases, 

And at that time (death?) will bequeath you my diseases." 

It seems probable that if this person had a whoreson phthisic at 
all, that it was likely of a syphilitic origin, as in the two last lines 
quoted he gives us some hint in that direction ; and the language of 
Troilus, whose confidence he had shamefully abused in the matter 
of his representations respecting the virtues of Miss Cressida, 
goes far toward substantiating the conclusion : 

Troilus. "Hence, brothel-lackey! ignominy and shame pursue 
thy life, and live aye with thy name. 

Pandarus. A goodlj^ medicine for mine aching bones ! O world ! 
world! world! thus is the poor agent despised." The mefe asser- 
tion, however, that he would bequeath his disease does not make it 
positive that he had not a whoreson phthisic, for the reason simply 
that it is now proven beyond a doubt that tuberculosis is directly 
transmissible from one person who is suffering from it to another 
who is in good health. The germs, — bacteria — may be carried into 
the system of a sound person through several avenues, or by more 
than one means, viz. : by inoculating, either with the blood, or di- 
rectly with tubercular matter ; or by inhaling the detritus from 
the expiration of a tubercular patient ; and also, perhaps, by ab- 
sorption — cutaneous and mucous, as in occupying the same couch 
with a tubercular patient. 

The matter pertaining to the pathology of the respiratory system 
having been noticed, we come next to its physiology. In this direc- 
tion we have such phrases as "so shall my lungs coin words till 
they decay," " thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud," and 
"the heaving of my lungs to ridiculous smiling," etc., etc., are 
some of them. 

An extract from "A Midsummer Night's Dream," which is inter- 
esting to the physiologist, is found in the following: 

"Dark night, that from the eye his function takes, 
The ear more quick of apprehension makes ; 
"Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense, 
It pays the hearing double recompense." 

Under ordinary circumstances the above is not true — as for exam- 
ple in the case of a physician who is necessarily out much of nights ; 
but I do believe a person learns to, or acquires the power to see 
better by being trained in the school of night perambulations ; the 



184 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN;. 

transient suspension of any one of the special senses will not be 
compensated for by any one of the others assuming its duties in 
part or in whole, but it is certainly true that the total obliteration 
of one or more of them, and a long schooling of those which remain 
perfect, render them much more acutely sensitive to their wonted 
stimulus, and may thus often in some degree fill the principle of 
compensation. 

I had Shakespeare's idea, as above expressed, very fairly illus- 
trated some years ago in my own family. There was sojourning in 
the village where we then resided, a gentleman of fine intelligence 
who was congenitally blind. My wife chanced to be calling at the 
house of a lady where he was stopping, and he heard her name 
called, and also had some conversation with her ; from that time 
forward he could always recognize her in name and in person by 
the voice alone ; I was much from home about this time, and my 
wife was considerably exercised as to the probability of the "blind 
man's " wanting to stay a time at our house, as he had been com- 
plimenting most of the neighbors with his company for a few days 
each. One day she had been down the street on an errrand, and 
whilst on her return she discovered on the other side of the street, 
but considerably in advance of her, the "blind man," Mr. Flem- 
ming, making his way in the same direction ; she instantly said in a 
low tone to a companion who was with her — "Yonder goes the 
blind man ; I don't want him to go to our house, for I am afraid of 
him." — " How are you afraid ! " suddenly rang out sharp and clear 
from the poor man's lips. She was much surprised, as she supposed 
that at that distance no ordinary ear was able to distinguish the 
sound of an ordinary conversation, little less the exact words. 
Here this power of compensation had doubtless been educated to 
the point of the nicest acuteness as a necessity to the welfare of 
the individual, as otherwise he no doubt would have encountered 
many dangers in his perambulations about the country entirely 
alone. 

Apropos of this subject, a strange story comes to us from Europe, 
in the work of Mr. W. H. Levy, entitled "Blindness and the 
Blind," in which he tells of himself that although he is totally 
blind yet he has the power to distinguish one object from another — 
to tell perfectly well when near to an object, etc., almost as well as 
though he was possessed of vision ; he can distinguish a house 
from a shop, or a board fence from a stone wall, — tell how high an 



ORGANOLOGY. 



185 



object near him maybe, — distinguish a stump from a horse, etc., 
with much precision. This power he terms "facial perception," 
or the power of seeing with the face, as he loses the faculty when 
the face is covered, and cannot perform the function with any other 
portion of the surface, though it be uncovered. Writers call this 
power the "latent sense," but at best it is not very clearly under- 
stood. "Sand-blind," "high gravel blind," are terms used in 
the "Merchant of Venice," and seem to be of the same signifi- 
cance as our term " stone blind." 

"I do see the cruel pangs of death, bright in thine eye," is 
found in "King John," whilst Thersites, in "Troilus and Cressida," 
tells us what he knows about ophthalmia and its therapeutics when 
he likens Patroclus to a " green sarcinet flap for a sore eye ; " and 
the man Benvolio, in " Romeo and Juliet," gives us his in the oft- 
quoted couplet: — 

"Take now some new infection to thine eye, 
And the rank poison of the old will die." 

I have often wondered why the "green flap " is universally worn 
in these cases ; I can think of no optical law which makes it either 
desirable or necessary. In the couplet is embodied the whole prin- 
ciple of the treatment of ophthalmic affections, namely: the pro- 
duction of a new or of another condition in the structures of the eye. 

" Come on my right hand," for this ear is deaf," says Caesar to 
Antony. This infirmity is one of grave annoyance, as the writer 
can attest from a past experience ; and, like Caesar (in one particu- 
lar at least), he always wants his companion on his right hand ; 
indeed it is unpleasant for one to ride or walk to his left, though it 
be in silence, so confirmed is the habit. An incident occurred in 
this connection a year or so ago, when on a horseback ride into the 
country with a strange gentleman. He, upon starting, got to my 
left hand, — as I supposed by chance ; it was no great while until an 
opportunity offered, which I made the most of, by riding in a care- 
less manner on his left ; this process was repeated several times 
during the trip, until at last it was evident that on his part as on 
my own, the change was not by accident but by design ; and upon 
enquiry it was found that the worthy gentleman was in the same 
unpleasant predicament as Caesar and myself, — he always wanted 
his Antony on his right hand, as his left ear was deaf. 

Epistaxis is noticed in " The Merchant of Venice," and pleuritis 



186 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

or pleurodinia, "side stitches that shall pen the breath up," in 
" The Tempest," while " the dropsy drown this fool," and " that 
swollen parcel of dropsies," are terms in the vocabularies of Cala- 
ban and Prince "Hal." If we take the latter as veritable fact, it 
gives us another argument in the chain of evidence that old " Sir 
John" was miasmatic, as it is a well known fact that abdominal 
dropsies are a very frequent concomitant of malarial poisonings, 
and the term was applied by the prince to his old friend — "Jack 
Falstaff, gentleman." 

The renal function is noticed first in the " Merchant of Venice," 
in this way: "Some are mad if they behold a cat; and others, 
when the bagpipe sings i' the nose, cannot contain their urine for 
affection." In this quotation we see again the power of emotional 
conditions of the mind over the organic functions ; in cases of the 
character just alluded to we find the analogue of the peristaltic 
action of the intestinal mucous membrane through the excitation of 
the sympathetic fibrillae which supplies it, in cases of fear; or in 
the lachrymal apparatus through the patheticus. 

The tormentors of poor Malvolio, in "Twelfth Night," concocted 
a plan by which they attempted to make him believe they were in 
earnest as to his lunacy; they proposed to " carry his water to the 
wise woman" — a proceeding very popular in a certain class of our 
profession only a few years ago. The "urine doctors" do not 
flourish to the same extent in this country as in days gone by. 
Falstaff does not escape in this matter either ; ' ' what says the 
doctor to my water? 

Page. He said, sir, the water itself was a good water ; but for 
the party that owned it, he might have more diseases than he knew 
of." A sensible and conscientious doctor, for a wonder. 

In " Macbeth " it is given out as a fact that " drink" is a great 
provoker of three things, viz. : •' Nose-painting, sleep and urine." 
Lager beer for the latter always. 

As in the case of the liver, so with the kidneys, — the alcoholic 
stimulants exercise a very marked influence over their functions ; 
what may at first constitute only an augmented functional activity 
through the stimulating effects upon the renal organs, will, in the 
end, if long continued, lead to structural change in the kidney in 
the form of granular degeneration, or atrophy, or some other ab- 
normal condition which is a sure precursor of toxaemia, dropsical 
effusions, and other perversions of the healthy life which ultimate 



ORGANOLOGY. 187 

in death; even the sleep itself which "drink" promotes is one 
morbid in its action ; whilst the nose-painting which seems only a 
matter for sport, to those who observe superficially, is a sure sign 
to others that the alcohol has commenced its destructive processes 
in the system in earnest. It is claimed of late that some skilled 
artizan has discovered a process bj'^ which the illuminated proboscis 
may be bleached, and rendered as good as new. The only remedy, 
however, known to physicians is to " leave sack." 

Falstaff even had to bear the odium of being fat attached to his 
other sins. 

Prince Henry. " Here comes lean Jack, here comes bare bones. 
How long is't ago, Jack, since thou sawest thy own knee? 

Falstaff. My own knee? when I was about thy years, Hal, I was 
not an eagle's talon in the waist; I could have crept into any alder- 
man's thumb-ring: a plague of sighing and grief! it blows a man 
up like a bladder." Then after a wrangle, in which much laugh- 
able matter occurs between them, they conclude in this way: 

Falstaff. " The king himself is to be feared as the lion. Dost 
thou think I'll fear thee as I fear thy father? Nay, an I do, I pray 
God, my girdle break ! 

Prince Henry. O, if it should, how would thy guts fall about 
thy knees! But, sirrah, there's no room for faith, truth, nor 
honesty, in that bosom of thine ; it is filled up with guts and 
midriff." 

The dissimilarity in the mental organization is on a par with that 
of the physical when we compare another of Shakespeare's char- 
acters with his inimitable Falstaff. Reference is made to Cassius, 
whose physique and mental make up are thus placed in contrast 
with that of Sir John. 

Ccesar. " Let me have men about me that are fat; sleek-headed 
men, and such as sleep o' nights. Yond' Cassius has a lean and 
hungry look ; he thinks too much : such men are dangerous. Would 
he were fatter ; but I fear him not ; yet if my name were liable to 
fear, I don't know the man that I should avoid as soon as that spare 
Cassius. He reads much ; he loves no plays, he hears no music, 
seldom smiles, and when he does, he smiles in such a sort as if he 
mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spirit that could be moved to smile 
at anything." Falstaff would have been a man after Caesar's own 
heart. 



188 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

It is very clearly perceived and forcibly illustrated in the fore- 
going selection that Shakespeare had observed the fact that ali- 
mentive and intellectual capacity are not likely to be twins — or, in 
other words, to reside in the same person. Stomach work and brain 
work are not generally compatible, from physiological reasons as 
given in a former chapter. 

"And make each petty artery in his body, as hardy as the 
Numean lion's nerve." — Hamlet. " My veins are chill, and have 
no more of life, than may suffice to give my tongue that heat to ask 
your help." A case of extreme debility in the person of Pericles. 
Veins and their contents are noticed in "AWinter's Tale," and "As 
fire cools fire within the scorched veins of one new burn'd " in "King 
John ; " whilst another passage in the same reads " or if that surly 
spirit, melancholy, had bak'd thy blood, and made it heavy, thick, 
which else runs trickling up and down the veins." 

In the first of these quotations from "John," it is evident that it 
had a deep hold upon the popular mind ; as we see ninety-nine out 
of a hundred common people, even now, hold to and act upon the 
notion that exposing a fresh burn to the fire afterward will "draw 
the fire out." The process of roasting the victim of a coal oil 
explosion slowly before a red-hot stove as a healing process has no 
good grounds in the philosophy of therapeutics ; we might well 
commit a parody and exclaim O Science, O Medicine, what barbari- 
ties are enacted in thy name ! 

In "King John" we also find a line which reads thus: "That 
whiles warm life plays in that infant's veins " — only an idea in veri- 
fication of the old scripture — " the blood is the life thereof." 

Falstaff, after marching up and throwing down the body of the 
dead Percy, claiming that he had slain him, whilst pleasantly con- 
templating his chances of growing renowned over his feat, talks 
thus to himself : 

" He that rewards me, God reward him; if I do grow great, I'll 
grow less ; for I'll purge and leave sack, and live cleanly, as a 
nobleman should." 

Poor Sir John, the grounds upon which he built his good resolves 
proved as fallacious as the mirage of the desert ; but the resolve 
alone teaches us to remember the fact that man always rises with 
his condition ; place a boor on a seat of rosewood and he will think 
twice before cutting it, or place him in a room with Brussels carpets, 
and he will scarcely eject his saliva. 



ORGANOLOGY. 189 

As to curtailing his obesity by purging, it was of doubtful pro- 
priety, but the resolve to leave off sack and live cleanly were the 
very essence of philosophy. The fat in his system represented the 
hydro-carbon that should have been consumed in the respiratory 
process ; but the system being always supplied with an abundance 
of that material in the sack, the respiratory fires were kept burning 
with that fuel, and the fat was laid by for a rainy day, or for a 
period of hybernation as it were. So of the cleanliness : remove 
the dirt from the surface, and oxydation of the superfluous tissues 
will be hastened. 

The subject of fever is a little too general to come appropriately 
under the present head ; but as there seems no more convenient 
place for the little that is named of the subject, I shall introduce it 
here nevertheless. I quote two or three lines from " Love's Labor 
Lost:" 

Dumaine. "I would forget her, but a fever she reigns in my 
blood, and will remember'd be. 

Biron. (Aside.) A fever in your blood? why, then, incision 
would let her out in saucers," (evidently refering to the custom of 
venesection), — whilst we find in "King John" some lines reading 
thus: "This fever that hath troubled me so long, lies heavy on 
me," and " ah me! this tyrant fever burns me up ;" " entreat the 
north to make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips, and comfort 
me with cold." These words were quoted before in the chapter on 
etiology, and their causation and pathological significance placed to 
the action of malaria, instead of "poison tasted to him by a monk." 
We also find the idea, as expressed in the words of Biron, embodied 
in a conversation between the Archbishop of York and the Earl of 
Westmoreland, in " Henry the Fourth;" and, though only used in 
an allegorical sense, yet it conveys a good notion of the practice of 
the times. 

Archbishop. " We are all diseas'd ; and with our surfeiting, and 
wanton hours, have brought ourselves into a burning fever, and we 
must bleed for it ; of which disease, our late king, Richard, being 
infected, died." 

The condition of the circulation in fever is noted in "Troilus 
and Cressida," as appears in the following: 

Pandarus. (Speaking of Cressida.) "She's making her ready. 
She'll come straight: you must be witty now. She does so blush, 



190 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

and fetches her wind so short, as if she was frayed with a sprite : 
I'll fetch her. It is the prettiest villain: she fetches her breath so 
short as a new-tak'n sparrow. (Ex. Pandarus.) 

Troilus. Even such a passion doth embrace my bosom : my 
heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse, and all my powers do 
their bestowing lose." 

The foregoing is a very fair pen-picture of the excitement inci- 
dent to venereal anticipation in the modest young man. This from 
old Timon, is after his usual style: " Go, suck the subtle blood of 
the grape, till the high fever seethe your blood to froth, and so 
'scape hanging: trust not the physician; his antidotes are poison, 
and he slays more than you rob," whilst may be mentioned again 
the charge against Caesar: " He had a fever when he was in Spain, 
and, when the fit was on him, I did mark how he did shake." 
"Hectic," is used in "Hamlet." In "Love's Labor Lost" we 
have a precedent for " open air " exercises held now as so essential 
for health. "So it is, besieged with sable-coloured melancholy, 
I did commend the black-oppressing hour to the most wholesome 
physic of the health giving air ; and, as I am a gentleman, betook 
myself to walk. The time when? About the sixth hour; when 
beasts most graze, birds best peck, and men sit down to that 
nourishment called supper. So much for the time when. Now for 
the ground which ; which, I mean, I walk'd upon ; it is ycleped the 
park. Then for the place where ; where, I mean, I did encounter 
that obscene and most preposterous event, that draweth from my 
snow-white pen the ebon-coloured ink, which here thou viewest, 
beholdest, survey est or seest." So much for the exhilaration of an 
evening's walk. 

In "The Winter's Tale," Leontes says: "The blessed gods 
purge all infection from our air, whilst you do climate here," 
whilst we see in "King John" the faith in good air: "His high- 
ness yet doth speak ; and holds belief, that being brought into the 
open air, it would allay the burning quality of that fell poison," etc. 

The horrors of pestilential vapors are thus presented : 

"A many of your bodies shall, no doubt, find native graves, 
upon the which, I trust, shall witness live in brass of this day's 
work ; and those that leave their valiant bones in France, dying 
like men, though buried in yon dunghills, they shall be fam'd; for 
there the sun shall greet them, and draw their horrors up to heaven, 



OBGANOLOGT. 191 

leaving their earthly parts to choke your clime, the smell whereof 
shall breed a pestilence in France," whilst the hurtful influence of 
air to an early wound is thus stated: " The air hath got into my 
deadly wounds, and much effuse of blood doth make me faint." — 
"Henry the Sixth," A. ii., S. vi. 

The deleterious effects of the local action of even pure air upon 
open wounds is clearly recognized even now. Filter it — removing 
all germs and mechanical irritants, and yet the oxygen or some 
other constituent admitted with it will cause the wound to progress 
in a manner different from one hermetically closed. 



CHAPTER VIII. 



CHIRURGERY. 



Grows stronger for the breaking — Mistaken principle — Patching the over- 
coat — Bad practice — Syncope— Mistakes in prognosis — Spare the blood — 
Shakespeare a poor surgeon — A scar covered veteran — The money changer — 
The surgeon's fee — Professional failing — Doctors and the clergy — A man 
with a soul — The surgeon's tools— Surgeon's fort — Honors to whom honor, 
etc. — Trichina spiralis— Who is responsible?— Doctors and their doings — 
Little change — Cowardly knave— Jester for an hospital — The least merit — 
A precedent for doctor '<she" — "Malignant fistulas "—Potent remedy- 
Popular ignorance — The reformed hod-carrier— Professional honor — Another 
comparison — A lame impostor and his lame detection — Doctor's untimely 
end— The English Nero— Dr. Butts, the scoundrel — A want of faith — Woful 
mistake — Danger of expectancy— In Macbeth — An absurd credulity— God 
Almighty as a visiting physician— How does your patient, doctor?— Needs a 
divine — No mean psychologist — Indiscreet — A self- constituted doctor. 

There will be united in the present chapter all the matter pertain- 
ing to the specialty of Surgery, — the surgeon, therapeutics, and the 
physician ; at the same time taking care to keep the specific material 
of each as distinct from the other as possible. 

It is asserted in the second part of " Henry the Fourth" that a 
"broken limb united, grows stronger for the breaking ;" and in 
the same " thou hast drawn my shoulder out of joint." 

Now the first of these propositions is perhaps predicated upon 
the assumption that because the deposition of bony material at the 
site of fracture is usually more voluminous than the original nor- 
mal bone, the strength of the new structure will be greater also. 
This conclusion is opposed to the principles of repair not only in 
histogenetic operations, but also in the ordinary physical and me- 
chanical appliances. This principle, in its application to living 
tissues, used to be fairly illustrated by the late Prof. Linton, of 
St. Louis, in this way: " The neoplasms are all formed of materials 
of a less perfect vitality than the normal original tissue of the part 

192 



CHIRURGERY. 193 

where they may chance to be located ; — that in cicatricial tissue in 
particular is this so marked, that he could illustrate the difference 
in no better way than to liken it to patching your over-coat with a 
bit of your cotton shirt." This principle holds good with the 
osseous as well as all other tissues, and demonstrates conclusively 
that we have caught Shakespeare in one error at least. When once 
we have a broken femur, we may, under the most favorable circum- 
stances, never hope to have it " just as good as new ;" or, "just 
as good as old " rather. 

In " As You Like It " we find the following : " And here, upon 
his arm, the lioness had torn some flesh away, which all this while 
had bled ; and now he fainted, and cried in fainting upon Rosalind. 
Brief, I recover'd him, bound up his wound," etc. Shakespeare 
here observed the caution to not make a patient dangerous as to 
hemorrhage from a lacerated wound ; though he lets him bleed 
enough to make him fall into a syncope ; the damage, however, was 
not lasting, as we are assured that Orlando was again soon " strong 
of heart." In "Henry the Fourth" occurs another passage in 
regard to a swoon into which the king had fallen. 

Somerset. " Rear up his body ; wring him by the nose." Thit. 
teaching as to changing a person to an upright or semi-uprighl 
position in a common syncope is averse to the very law and re- 
source of nature, — the falling into a horizontal position being tht 
very means adopted by unassisted nature to restore such cases. 
As to the " wringing by the nose" to revivify a fainting patient, 
that method was never any part of nature's plan, but is doubtless the 
offspring of some miserable botch. The loss of blood is also re- 
cognized as a source of syncope in the case of Clifford where he 
tells us that " much effuse of blood doth make me faint." We have 
another failure in Shakespeare to sufficiently weigh surgical princi- 
ples, in the fact that he did not discriminate between lesions of a 
serious nature and those which are comparatively unimportant : — 
thus, he makes the loss of an eye and part of the cheek as very early 
fatal in the case of Salisbury in " Henry the Fourth ;" he makes the 
case as speedily fatal as would be a wound of a vital organ — as the 
lung, liver, kidney, etc., whilst another error is in the words — " the 
blood I drop, is rather physical than dangerous to me" — found in 
Coriolanus. It is axiomatic in all surgical practice that the less 
blood we have from a traumatism or following the use of the sur- 
geon's knife, the better for the patient. The same rule holds true 



194 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

in obstetric practice, as it is a truism that the most dangerous cases 
of metritis and other complications arising to post parturient pa- 
tients in my hands have followed usually in cases preceded by pro- 
fuse hemorrhage. 

The grave apprehensions entertained for the safety of a patient 
with fractured ribs, as seen in "As You Like It," would also add 
weight to the conclusion that tho' Shakespeare was good at most 
all things else, he was sadly deficient as a writer upon surgical sci- 
ence. There is a notice of a character having had his " shoulder 
blade" " torn out " in " Winter's Tale," and in "King Lear " we 
find "flax and whites of eggs" recommended as a hemostatic. 
The wound in "Portia's thigh" has nothing significant in it, whilst 
only a military surgeon would be interested in the scar-covered 
veteran Marcius who had one wound i' the shoulder, one i' the left 
arm, seven hurts i' the body, one i' the neck and two i' the thigh, 
etc., making in all twenty-seven. "The Winter's Tale" also has 
"I fear my shoulder blade is out," as a conclusion to "Shakespeare 
as a Surgeon." 

The term " surgeon " is used quite frequently. In "Midsummer- 
Night's Dream " is a witticism that "with the help of a surgeon he 
(one of the number of fops) might yet recover, and yet prove an 
ass" — an assertion that is too true of many, many of the surgeon's 
clients. 

In the case of Shylock, the Jewish money-changer, the court en- 
joined the necessity of having " some surgeon" at hand when he 
cut his " pound of flesh," " to stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to 
death." Shylock failed to cut, therefore the surgeon's skill was not 
brought into service ; wonder if he got his fee ? I suspect he did 
not, as it is the amount of physical labor, and the quantity of medi- 
cine administered in a given case, which entitles the practitioner to 
pay in the estimation of a majority of mankind. We flnd a very 
good illustration of the character of the cases which surgeons are 
often called to treat in the i:ase of a riot between Sir Toby Belch, 
Sir Andrew Ague-cheek, and Sebastian in " Twelfth Night," and 
also a stab at the morals of some of our "Surgeon Dicks" who get 
" tight," and get their " eyes set at eight i' the morning." Unfor- 
tunately for themselves and for their patrons, it was the custom, 
not long in the past, for many of the best minds in the surgical and 
medical professions to drink immoderately ; but I am of the opin- 
ion from an extended observation, that the "whisky habit" has 



CHrRTJRGERT. 195 

grown much less common among medical men during the last twenty 
years. 

The morals of medical men as a class, seems to me not inferior to 
that of an equal number of persons chosen from any class in soci- 
ety — not even omitting the clergy. It has been said: "Show me 
three physicians, and I will show you two sceptics," as an illustra- 
tion of the religious status of the profession. This happens, no 
doubt, from the fact that physicians are usually men who do not 
swallow blindly the teachings of others ; they think and reason for 
themselves, and the consequence is that they find much that is put 
forth by the theoretical propagators of Christianity as too futile for 
a moment's serious consideration ; they are men who look up from 
nature to nature's God, and worship accordingly. If you want a 
man with a soul go to the ranks of the true physician, and you will 
be sure to find him. 

"Surgeon's box" is mentioned in " Troilus and Cressida," and 
" fetch a surgeon " in " Romeo and Juliet " in the case of Mer- 
cutio. 

Romeo. " Courage, man, the hurt cannot be much. 

Mercutio. No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church 
door, but 'tis enough ; 'twill serve : ask for me to-morrow, and you 
will find me a grave man." 

Now in reference to the "surgeon's box," we suppose that the 
case in which surgeons keep their " tools" — (to use the unmistaka- 
ble language of a young medical gentleman of our acquaintance) is 
meant ; whilst " go get him surgeon," is the language of Duncan in 
behalf of a wounded soldier. 

"Let me have a surgeon, I am cut to the brain," was the request 
of old King Lear in one of his fantasies ; and lago, that impersona- 
tion of the sum of all villainies, proffered to " fetch a surgeon" for 
Rodrigo, who had been set upon by his own hired assassins. 

It is apparent that the practice of surgery was even at that early 
day looked upon with much more respect than the practice of med- 
icine ; thus it is to-day, and thus it will ever be. 

There is one very obvious cause for this, and one which all may 
and do more or less observe — and that is the surgeon's work is al- 
ways tangible to the naked eye of the populace, no comprehensive 
thinking or philosophizing being brought into requisition for the 
recognition of the surgeon's power ; whilst the intricacies which 



196 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

the doctor proper has to meet and overcome are far beyond the scru- 
tiny of the ordinary observer. Whilst, really, the surgeon is only 
an ordinary mechanic in many instances, and the physician a deep 
and genuine philosopher, the one carries the palm amongst a 
thoughtless community, whilst the other is set down as an old fogy- 
It seems, too, that the profession is half inclined to honor the sur- 
geon more than the physician, and it may be that it is from the fact 
that the peculiarities of the science and art of surgery proper are 
not cursed with the multitudes of parasites to which the practice of 
medicine is exposed — the practice of medicine, owing to the advan- 
tages which may be taken of it, having to bear the odium of a million 
professional (?) leeches sucking at its integrity. The great profession 
legitimate medicine, reminds me of a strong man who partakes of 
an underdone pork steak, and in process of time becomes afflicted, 
heart, brain and all, with trichina spiralis. Quackery is every- 
where ; it pervades the high places as well as the low, flourishes in 
the palace of the rich as well as in the hovel of the poor, and is so 
fastened upon and rooted into the profession and society that there is 
no feasible way in which to get rid of the evil. The profession it- 
self is in some degree responsible for this ; but in the mean it is due 
to the willful ignorance of the populace. Our American people will 
be humbugged, and the pretenders in medicine make them pay 
dearly for their willing pliability. 

As Part II. of Chapter VIII., we design adding what we have 
upon the subject of "Doctors and their doings;" and, though con- 
stituting the bulk of the chapter, we hope it may not prove less 
interesting on that ground. Of materials we have an assortment : 
we have the "regular" and the "mountebank," — doctor "she" 
and the " tooth-slinger," each in his sphere; little observable 
change in the quantity or quality of the "goods" in three hun- 
dred years. 

The renowned "French physician" — Doctor Caius, whose mis- 
understanding with Sir Hugh Evans is so well described in the 
" Merry Wives of Windsor," is a true representative of the adver- 
tising fraternity of this day ; and when Sir Hugh avowed that his 
antagonist had "no more knowledge of Hibbocrates and Galen, — 
and he is a knave besides; — a cowardly knave," he no doubt hit 
upon the exact truth. 



CHIRURGERY. 



197 



We find a strange bargain as to service in an hospital in " Love's 
Labor Lost," in the matter of the courtship between Rosaline and 
Biron : 

Rosaline. "If you my favor mean to get, a twelvemonth shall 
you spend, and never rest, but seek the weary beds of people sick. 

Biron. Studies, my lady? Mistress, look on me: behold the 
window of my heart, mine eye, what humble suit attends the answer 
there ; impose some service on me for thy love. 

Rosaline. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Biron, before I saw 
you, and the world proclaims you replete with mocks, comparisons, 
and wounding flouts, which you on all estates will exercise, that lie 
within the mercy of your wit: to weed this wormwood from your 
fruitful brain, and, therewithal, to win me, if you please, without 
the which I am not to be won, you shall this twelvemonth term, 
from day to day, visit the speechless sick, and still converse with 
groaning wretches ,; and your task shall be, with all the fierce en- 
deavor of your wit, to force the pained impotent to smile. 

Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of death? it cannot 
be ; it is impossible : mirth cannot move a soul in agony. 

Rosaline. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing spirit, whose 
influence is begot of that loose grace, which shallow laughing 
hearers give to fools. A jest's prosperity lies in the ears of him 
that hears it, never in the tongue of him that makes it : then if 
sickly ears, deaf'd with the clamours of their own dire groans, will 
hear your idle scorns, continue there, and I will have you, and that 
fault withal ; but, if they will not, throw away that spirit, and I 
shall find you empty of that fault, right joyfully of your re- 
formation. 



198 



SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 




" I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital." 

Biron. A twelvemonth ? well, befall what will befall, I'll jest a 
twelvemonth in an hospital." 

It appears to me that there is less merit — less applicability, less 
pretext for the above quoted matter, and that the occasion was less 
appropriate for the exercise of such a train of thought, than is to 
be found in connection with almost any single passage or reflection 
in the entire writings of Shakespeare. The only merit I am able to 
discover in it is the originality of the idea of employing a " jester " 
to an hospital ; the idea being new, whether its application would 
be of value or not. It is not every day that we stumble on original 
thought even of doubtful merit, and we will prize this accordingly. 

The champions of female physicians may find a precedent for 
their doctrines in "All's Well That Ends Well," in the case of 
Lady Helena, who ministered to the king successfully. 

The old lord, Lafeu, in a conversation with the Countess of 
Rousillon, in answer to the^enquiries as to the health of the king, 
remarked — "He hath abandoned his physicians, madam; under 
whose practice he hath persecuted time with hope, and finds no 
other advantage in the process, but only the losing of hope by 
time. 



CHIRURGERY. 



199 



Countess. "This young gentlewoman (meaning Helena, her ward) 
had a father, — O, that had! how sad a passage 'tis, — whose skill, 
almost as great as his honesty, had it stretch' d so far, would have 
made nature immortal, and death should have played for lack of 
work. Would, for the king's sake, he were' living! I think it 
would be the death of the king's disease. He was famous, sir, in 
his profession. 

Lafeu. He was excellent, indeed, madam: the king very lately 
spake of him, admiringly and mourningly ; he was skilled enough 
to have lived still, if knowledge could be set up against mortality. 

Bertram. What is it my good lord, the king, languisheth of? 

Lafeu. A fistula, my lord." 

King. (Another Scene.) " How long is it, count, since the 
physician at your father's died? He was much fam'd. 

Bertram. Some six months since, my lord. 

King. If he were living, I would try him yet: — lend me an 
arm ; — the rest have worn me out with several applications : nature 
and sickness debate at their leisure." 

Then follows a lengthy conversation on other matters, and then 
the king's malady is again brought up : 

Lafeu. "I have seen a medicine that is able to breathe life into 
a stone, quicken a rock, and make you dance canary with spritely 
fire and motion ; whose simple touch is powerful to upraise King 
Pepin, nay, to give great Charlemain a pen in's hand, to write to 
her a love line. 

King. What her is this ? 

Lafeu. Why, doctor she. My lord, there's one arriv'd, if you 
will see her : — now, by my faith and honor, if seriously I may con- 
vey my thoughts in this my light deliverance, I have spoke with 
one, that in her sex, her years, profession, wisdom, and constancy, 
hath amaz'd me more than I dare blame my weakness. Will you 
see her (for that is her demand), and know her business? That 
done, laugh well at me. 

King. Now, good Lafeu, bring in the admiration, that we with 
thee may spend our wonder too, or take off thine by wond'ring how 
thou took'st it." 

Lafeu then brings in Helena, and remarks — " This is his majesty ; 
say your mind to him: a traitor you do look like ; but such traitors 



200 



SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 



his majesty seldom fears. I am Cressida's uncle, that dare leave 
two together. Fare you well. 

King. Now, fair one, does your business follow us? 

Helena. Ay, my good lord. Gerard de Narbon was my father ; 
in what he did profess well found. 

King. I knew him. 

Helena. The rather will I spare my praises towards him ; know- 
ing him is enough. On 's bed of death many receipts he gave me ; 
chiefly one which, as the dearest issue of his practice, and of his 
old experience the only darling, he bade me store up as a triple 
eye, safer than mine own two, more dear. I have so : and hearing 
your high majesty is touch'd with that malignant cause, wherein the 
honor of my dear father's gift stands chief in power, I came to ten- 
der it, and my appliance, with all bound humbleness. 




" Helena and the King. 



CHIRURGERY. 201 

King. We thank you, maiden, but may not be so credulous of 
cure: when our most learned doctors leave us, and the congregated 
college have concluded that labouring art can never ransom nature 
from her inaidable estate, I say, we must not so stain our judgment, 
or corrupt our hope, to prostitute our past-cure malady to empirics ; 
or to dissever 

Our great self and our credit, to esteem 
A senseless help, when help past sense we deem. 
Helena. My duty then shall pay me for my pains : I will no more 
enfore my office on you ; humbly entreating from your royal thoughts 
a modest one, to bear me back again. 

King. I cannot give thee less to be called grateful. 
Thou thought' st to help me, and such thanks I give 
As one near death to those that wish him live ; 
But what at full I know, thou knowest no part, 
I know all my peril, thou no art. 
Helena. 

What I can do can do no hurt to try, 
Since you set up your rest 'gainst remedy. 
He that of greatest works is finisher 
Oft does them by the weakest minister. 
King. 

I must not hear thee ; fare thee well, kind maid. 
Thy pains not used, must by thy self be paid : 
Proffers, not took, reap thanks for their reward. 
Helena. 

Dear sir, to my endeavors give consent ; 
Of heaven, not me, make an experiment. 
I am not an impostor, that proclaim 
Myself against the level of mine aim ; 
But know I think, and think I know most sure, 
My art is not past power, nor you past cure. 
King. Art thou so confident ? Within what space hop' st thou my 
cure? 

Helena. The greatest grace lending grace. 

Ere twice the horses of the sun shall bring 
Their fiery torcher his diurnal ring ; 
Ere twice in murk and occidental damp 
Moist Hesperus hath quench' d his sleepy lamp ; 



202 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

Ere four and twenty times the pilot's glass 
Hath told the thievish minutes how they pass, 
What is infirm from your sound parts shall fly, 
Health shall live free, and sickness freely die. 
King. Upon thy certainty and confidence, what dar'st thou ven- 
ture? 

Helena. Tax of impudence, a strumpet's boldness, a divulged 
shame, traduced by odious ballads ; my maiden's name 

Seared otherwise ; the worst of worst extended, 
"With vilest torture let my life be ended. 
King. 

Methinks, in thee some blessed spirit doth speak. 
His powerful sound in this, an organ weak ; 
Sweet practiser, thy physic I will try. 
That ministers thine own death, if I die." 

We see in the above quotation but a reflection of the ideas of the 
ignorant masses from that day to the present ; the matter is only the 
nations of to-day presented in their most feeble aspect. Ninety-nine 
hundredths of the people of this March, 1884, would quit the "most 
learned doctors, and congregated college," and run wild after some 
" Indian doctor," the which is only another name for some reformed 
hod-carrier. Even " kings and potentates," and others whose com- 
mon sense ought to be a guarantee of better actions, trust the lives 
of their children — sometimes themselves, to the medical care of some 
creature having less skill than a boot-black. 

Our lady friends who are ambitious to become specialists in the 
department of "malignant fistulae " may in the foregoing case 
find an ancient and honorable precedent. 

Apropos of the cure of fistulas, it was the fortune — good or bad — 
of this city, a few years ago, to be visited by an old and impudent 
negro, who called himself Dr. Sunrise. He made a specialty of 
treating " fistulae." He '■'■ pulled them out!" and never failed of a 
cure. He took quarters in a hovel in the purlieus of the city, before 
the door of which might be seen any day the carriages of the wealthy. 



CHIKURGERY. 



203 




" Dr. Sunrise " in St. Joseph. 

while the common people thronged the streets, all seeking to be 
healed. He would not receive his pay in a check on a city bank — he 
had no time to spare in running to the bank for his fee ! It must be 
paid, cash in hand, or no treatment did he mete out! $3,000, it was 
said, rewarded his three weeks' scattering of handbills and flippant 
arrogance. The profession of this era is certainly cursed to the very 
full with this kind of stuff, but medical men may console them- 
selves (when reading the foregoing) by remembering that this is not 
the only age and generation that has been cursed with the incubus. 

In " Richard the Second " we find an appeal to God to put it into 
a physician's mind to help his patient to his grave immediately. 

It is somewhat singular that among the multitude of villainies we 
constantly see or read of, it is one of the rarest to hear of a physician 
abusing the confidence of his patients. A physician's purposely 
murdering his patient is one of the rarest of crimes. There have 
been two cases in the United States within my recollection where this 
crime has been charged upon physicians, but fortunately for the 
honor of the profession, and the ends of justice it is to be hoped, 
both parties were acquitted of the charge ; I allude 'to the case of 
Dr. Schoeppe in Pennsylvania, and that of Dr. Madlicott in Kansas ; 
the one for the murder of Miss Stenick through motives of avarice, 
the other of Mr. Euth for the purpose of inheriting his widow. These 
were the charges. 



204 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

The most debased wretch who has the hardihood to enter the 
medical profession, seems to regard fully the duty of holding sacred 
the trusts of his patrons as tenaciously as he does his own private 
secrets. I have hardly known this trust betrayed in more than a sin- 
gle instance. I have known but a single case where the morals of the 
family of any one have been directly polluted by the family doctor. 

Can we say as much of any other calling? How stands even the 
immaculate clergy upon this point ? This merit alone in the physician 
should entitle him to the confidence and esteem of all the world, and 
make him revered as a patron of virtue, if for nothing else. It is 
not the man, but the calling, however, that makes him what he is in 
this regard. 

"Physician" is mentioned in "Henry the Fourth," "Richard 
the Third," and in "Henry the Sixth." In the latter we find detailed 
the doings of an impostor, which is worth transcribing : 

(Enter one, crying a miracle! a miracle!) 

Glocester. ' ' What means this noise ? Fellow, what miracle dost 
thou proclaim? 

One. A miracle ! a miracle ! 

Suffolk. Come to the king : tell him what miracle. 

One. Forsooth, a blind man at St. Alban's shrine, within this half 
hour hath recover' d his sight ; a man that ne'er saw in his life before. 

King Henry. Now, God be prais'd, that to believing souls gives 
light in darkness, comfort in despair. 

(Enter Simpcox and his kinsfolk.) 

Cardinal. Here come the townsmen in procession, to present your 
highness with the man. 

King. Great is his comfort in this earthly vale, though by his 
sight hi^ sin be multiplied. 

Glocester. Bring him near ; his highness' pleasure is to talk with 
him. 

King. Good fellow, tell us here the circumstance ; has thou been 
long blind, and now restor'd? 

Simpcox. Born blind, an't please your grace. 

Wife. Ay, indeed was he. 

Suffolk. What woman is this ? 

Wife. His wife, an't like your worship. 

Glocester. Hadst thou been his mother thou could' st have better 
told. 



CHIBUKGEKT. 205 

King. Where wert thou born ? 

Simpcox. At Berwick in the North, an't hke your grace. 

King. Poor soul! God's goodness hath been great to thee. 

Queen. Tell me, good fellow, earnest thou here by chance? 

Cardinal. What ! art thou lame ? 

Simpcox. Ay, God Almighty help me ! 

Suffolk. How cam' st thou so? 

Simpcox. A fall off a tree. 

Wife. A plum-tree, master. 

Glocester. How long hast thou been blind ? 

Simpcox. O, born so, master. 

Glocester. What ! and wouldst climb a tree ? 

Simpcox. But that in all my life, when I was a youth. 

Wife. Too true ; and bought his climbing very dear. 

Glocester. 'Mass, thou lovest plums well, that would venture so. 

Simpcox. Alas, good master, my wife desir'd some damsons, and 
made me climb with danger of my life. 

Glocester. A subtle knave ; but yet it shall not serve ; — let me see 
thine eyes : — wink now ; — now open them. — In my opinion yet thou 
seest not well. 

Simpcox. Yes, master, clear as day ; I thank God. 

Glocester. Say' st thou me so? What colour is this cloak of ? 

Simpcox. Red, master ; red as blood. 

Glocester. Why, that's well said. What colour is my gown of? 

Simpcox. Black, forsooth ; coal black as jet. 

King. Why, then, thou know'st what colour jet is of? 

Suffolk. And yet, I think, jet did he never see. 

Glocester. But cloaks and gowns before this day, a many. 

Wife. Never before this day, in all his life. 

Glocester. Tell me, sirrah, what's my name? . 

Simpcox. Alas, master, I know not. 

Glocester. What's thine own name? 

Simpcox. Saunder Simpcox, an't please you, master. 

Glocester. Then, Saunder, sit thou there, thou lyingest knave in 
Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind, thou might' st as well 
have known all our names as thus to name the several colours we do 
wear. Sight may distinguish of colours ; but suddenly to nominate 
them all, it is impossible. My lords, would ye not think his cunning 
to be great, that could restore this cripple to his legs ? 

Simpcox. O, master, that you could! " 



206 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

Glocester then sends for a whip and stool, gives Mr. Simpcox a 
good thrashing, — he leaps from the stool and runs away, the people 
following and shouting — a miracle ! a miracle ! 

There was little show of erudition or even good sound sense in the 
effort to expose the malingering of this fellow Simpcox ; no person, 
however expert, can distinguish, in many cases, by a mere examina- 
tion of the physical appearance of the eye, whether or not its optical 
powers are perfect ; and the plea that the inability of Simpcox to 
individualize the parties present by their several names was sufficient 
to brand him as an impostor is simply ridiculous. If he had been 
afflicted with congenital cataract, and had that day been operated 
upon successfully, why then he would not have been able to say of 
colours which was red or which black ; he might have acquired the 
power very soon from a process of education, but not in a few hours. 
The readiness with which he recognized colours rendered it certain 
that he either had not been blind at all, or else had been operated 
upon at sometime prior to that present day. He had not been blind 
from birth if he could immediately distinguish colors — that is certain. 

Doctor Shaw, a notorious political intriguer, is named in ' ' Richard 
the Third," but not in connection with medical matters ; and Doctor 
Peace had held a place of trust and honor in the government, until 
displaced through the jealousies of Ordinal Wolsey. It is said that 
through grief at this misfortune, he ran mad and died. 

In "Henry the Eighth" we find mention of one Doctor Butts, the 
king' s physician ; — a man who seems to have been as heartless and 
unprincipled as his bloody master. It happened that this self-import- 
ant doctor did not like Cranmer, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and 
when this august functionary was humbled to the dust by the cold- 
blooded English Nero, — Henry the Eighth, — this same Butts, contrary 
to the instincts of the true physician, triumphed in his degradation, 
and took delight in making the fallen prelate feel it to the utmost. 
He acted a contemptible part. 

Menenius, in "Coriolanus," says: 

' ' It gives me an estate of seven years' health ; in which time I will 
make a lip at the physician : the most sovereign prescription in Galen 
is but empiric physic, and to this preservative, no better than a horse- 
drench," thus giving little credit to the powers of medicine. 

The notion prevails among a large portion of mankind, that the 
doctor has really little power over disease, and from this belief 
springs the patronage which in most instances falls into the hands of 



CHIRURGERY, 207 

the class of empirics known under various names, and outside of 
the pale of regular medicine — the idea being prevalent among 
the common people that they will do no harm if they do no good. 
If such reasoners would carry their arguments a little further, 
they would surely see that they had better employ no person 
at all, as one that is neither competent for good nor for evil is 
simply a nonentitj'^, save in the matter of fees. But they who take 
up the idea that even the common disease of rheumatism is not 
dangerous, and will get along quite-as well when not treated at all, 
are wofully mistaken. The plan was tried in the Massachusetts 
General Hospital, during the past summer, of leaving cases of rheu- 
matism without active treatment, and the progress of the cases noted. 
Ten ordinary cases, eight with first attacks, and two with a second 
attack — all young or middle-aged adults. Two died, three of seven 
examined got heart disease, and the average duration of the disease 
was about six weeks ! This was an appalling record for nature as a 
doctor, and shows us, as definitely as so few cases can, the dangers 
of trifling with life. 

The idea of Macbeth, — "throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it," 
is doctrine of the same worthless sort. Whilst I know full well the 
many abuses cloaked under the guise of the healing art, — and certain 
as I am of the murderous work it performs in the hands of the igno- 
rant, yet it is a God-like calling, in its purity ; and separated from the 
evils which beset it in the shape of unworthy pretenders, and there is 
nothing in the way of human ministrations productive of more good 
to the human race. 

In "Macbeth" we find the doctor occupying a conspicuous place, 
notwithstanding his low estimate of physic. We find the old notion 
in regard to the power of a touch of the royal hand in curing scrofula : 

Malcolm. ' ' Well ; more anon. — Comes the king forth, I pray you ? 

Doctor. Ay, sir ; there are a crew of wretched souls, that stay his 
cure : their malady convinces the great assay of heart ; but at his 
touch, such sanctity hath heaven given his hand, they presently 
amend. 

Malcolm. I thank you, doctor. 

Macduff. What's the disease he means? 

Malcolm. ' Tis called the evil : a most miraculous work in this 
good king, which often since my here remain in England, I have seen 
him do. How he solicits heaven, himself best knows ; but strangely- 
visited people, all swollen and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye, the mere 



208 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

despair of surgery, he cures ; hanging a golden stamp about their 
necks, put on with holy prayers ; and, 'tis spoken, to the succeeding 
royalty he leaves the benediction. With this strange virtue he hath a 
heavenly gift of prophecy, and sundry blessings hang about his 
throne, that speak him full of grace." The absurdity of the idea 
that a " swollen and ulcerons " person affected with king's evil can 
be cured by " charms and incantations" has not entirely passed from 
the minds of living generations. I was reading in a medical periodi- 
cal no longer ago than yesterday where a medical gentleman gravely 
proposed the setting apart of a certain ward in an hospital into which 
patients of exactly the same class as those in the other wards should 
be admitted, and who, in addition to the identical treatment given to 
the others, should receive special and persistent prayers for their 
recovery, and that the success of the plan be carefully noted. It 
seems to me that this plan would imply the ridiculous idea that the 
patients in the wards of our hospitals as now conducted are removed 
entirely from the recognition of a benignant Providence, and that the 
salvation of their inmates is left entirely to the care of the nurses and 
physicians. It is certainly said that "the prayers of the righteous 
availeth much," but I am persuaded that they are not of sufficient 
power in these latter days to amputate a thigh, or supersede the anti- 
periodic powers of quinine. If the plan proposed by the good doctor 
should prove a success, I presume the practice of the healing art would 
go back into the hands of the monks and barbers. The same doctor 
who had such faith in the king's virtues as a "healer" was called to 
see Lady Macbeth for her sleep-walking, and with commendable con- 
scientiousness announced the disease as "beyond his practice," — 
" yet," says he, " I have known those who walked in their sleep, who 
have died holily in their beds," During the course of the treatment 
it was asked by 

Macbeth. " How does your patient, doctor? 

Doctor. Not so sick, my lord, as she is troubled with thick-coming 
fancies that keep her from her rest. 

Macbeth. Cure her of that. Canst thou not minister to a mind 
diseas'd, pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, raze out the written 
troubles of the brain, and with some sweet oblivious antidote cleanse 
the stuff' d bosom of that perilous grief, which weighs upon the 
heart ? 

Doctor. Therein the patient must minister unto himself. "J 



CHTRURGEKT. 209 

It is apparent that Macbeth had entertained the hope that the pow- 
ers of the physician might avail something in the restoration of his 
wife's mental faculties, which had been so perturbed since the murder 
of Duncan ; and that it was only after the doctor declared his inability 
to do her good that he passionately exclaimed — ' ' throw physic to the 
dogs, I'll none of it" — a loss of confidence which seems to have had 
some grounds for it, as in his extremities he had hoped much, and 
received no help. 

It is probable that the case of Lady Macbeth would have been 
benefitted in the hands of many of our modern psychological experts ; 
and there is little doubt but that if the power of persistent prayer is 
necessary for the restoration of the sick, Lady Mac. would have been 
a fit subject upon which to have made experiment ; she was sick 
morally as well as mentally, and if a white neck-cloth and lugubrious 
physiognomy ever do good in the restoration of suffering humanity it 
is in maladies like hers. 

We find a metaphoric expression in Hamlet to this effect : ' ' Your 
wisdom should show itself more richer, to signify this to his doc- 
tor ; for, for me to put him to his further purgation, would per- 
haps plunge him into more choler. " In " Lear ' ' we find a doctor 
mixed up in the matters considerably, and in association with the 
treatment of old Lear's mental alienation proves himself to be no 
mean psychologist ; his treatment of the case, as fully detailed in the 
chapter on pharmacologia, testifies to his ability in his professional ac- 
quirements, and to the matter as it is there stated we may refer the 
reader again. 

True to his mission of justice and mercy, we find the physician, 
Cornelius, in " Cymbeline," thwarting the evil designs of the heart- 
less queen. ' ' She doth think she has strange lingering poisons : I do 
know her spirit, and will not trust one of her malice with a drug of 
such damned nature," whilst he comes in for a charge of a lack of 
discretion by Cymbeline, for simply announcing that the queen was 
dead : 

Cornelius. "Hail, great king! To sour your happiness, I must 
report the queen is dead. 

Cymbeline. Whom worse than a physician would this report be- 
come? But I consider, by medicine life may be prolong' d, yet death 
will seize the doctor too." 



210 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

We find one of that numerous and detestable class — self-constituted 
doctors,' making himself prominent in attending the shipwrecked per- 
sons in ' ' Pericles : " " Get fire and meat for these poor men ; it has 
been a turbulent and stormy night. (To a servant.) Your master 
will be dead ere you return: there's nothing can be minister' d to 
nature, that can recover him. Give this to the 'pothecary, and tell 
me how it works. 'Tis known, I ever have studied physic, through 
which secret art, by turning over authorities, I have (together with 
my practice) made familiar to me and to my aid, the blest infusions 
that dwell in vegetables, in metals, stones ; and can speak of the 
disturbances that nature works, and of her cures. Make fire within : 
fetch hither all the boxes in my closet. Death may usurp on nature 
many hours, and yet the fire of life kindle again the over-pressed 
spirits. I heard of an Egyi^tian that had nine hours lain dead, who 
was by good appliance recovered." 

How like the boastful lies of this class — the mountebanks of this 
day ! And the benighted public swallow the stories as gospel truths. 
Verily humanity is composed of the selfsame ingredients among all 
people and in all ages. 

The recent law passed by the legislature of Missouri and other 
states, lodging in the hands of Boards of Health the power to grant 
this class of men exclusive privileges, in the practice of their nefa- 
rious traflSc — traffic in human life — is a shame to the age, and is the 
extreme realization of the idea called the Black Arts in Medicine. 
One Hundred Dollars to the " State Board " and any man may have 
issued to him a certificate authorizing him to practice medicine in the 
great and enlightened States of Missouri, Illinois, West Virginia, and 
some others perhaps ; and the would-be reformers in the profession — 
those who are loud mouthed and boisterous in their clamor for a 
"higher standard of medical education," are the willing agents of 
these mountebanks in endangering the lives of helpless and unsus- 
pecting women and children. The people should see to it that such 
laws are removed from the statute books of the state. This recent 
medical legislation in the various states is in the interest of designing 
cliques, and the hands of those with whom the power for the execution 
of the laws has been placed have never been raised a single time 
against quackery, — but, on the contrary, have smote none but legiti- 
mate practitioners. 

H The licence law mentioned above is, to the practice of medicine, 
what the ' ' high licence law " is to the dram shops — places a mo- 



CHIBUBGERT. 



211 



nopoly of the itinerant medicine business in the hands of him who 
has money, but summarily stops the " wheels of progress" of the 
impecunious and less fortunate quack. I am not aware of any case 




" I have my licence from the State Board of Health, and here is your medicine." 

yet where any one has taken out the hundred dollar licence, but if 
any do not avail themselves of the opportunity to revel in the bene- 
fits of a rich monopoly, it is certainly no fault of the law. 



CHAPTER IX. 



MISCELLANEOUS . 



A vile caricature — The Hunchback— Now is the winter of my discontent — 
Listening to the whispers of Vanity — I 11 be at charge for a looking-glass — 
Troublous dreams — Sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve — Our life is two- 
old — Sleep hath its own world — From Byron— Neuralgia — No guaranty of 
truth — Riot — Position in sea-sickness — Old quarantine regulations — The 
plague— From the cradle to the grave — Characteristics of senility — Take a 
man of honor, Kate — He brings his phj^sic after his patient's death — An awk- 
ward predicament— Tests for death— Life a failure — Ay! but to die? Grim 
Death! 

Under the above title will be included various subjects which 
could not be well arranged under a different heading, and which did 
not embrace material sufficient in volume to entitle it to a place in 
the work as a whole chapter. The principal subjects noticed here 
will be Cyphosis (hunchback), Sleep, Senility, Necrology, etc., to- 
gether with other minor matters of little importance, with which the 
volume will close. 

In commenting upon the physical deformities of Richard the 
Third in a preceding chapter, it was mentioned that a quotation at 
more length depicting also his mental and moral traits in connection 
with other physical defects (those not mentioned there), might be 
found in the present place. This work, claiming to be an embodi- 
ment of Shakespeare's medical knowledge, would, it is thought, be 
incomplete without his complete description of that hideous carica- 
ture of humanity; and, although it may seem that a large portion of 
the matter is irrelevant to actual medicine, yet it is hardly possible 
to comprehend the medical point found in it unless we take them in 
their full connection. 

Richard the Third, King of England, occupied the throne from 
J 4:83 to 1485, and the foul crimes enacted during his brief lease 

212 



MISCELLANEOUS . 213 

of authority made his history a blot upon the human character. 
He was killed at the battle of Bosworth Fields, where his army of 
twelve thousand men was completely defeated by one of half the 
number under the command of the Earl of Richmond, who then 
became King Henry the Seventh. 

Nowhere in Shakespeare's whole productions is his power of delin- 
eating human character more manifest than in his pen-picture of this 
individual ; it is perfect, both as to his physical, moral, and mental de- 
velopments. The description shows Richard to have been a fit repre- 
sentative of his class, both as to physical and mental characteristics ; 
it being a noticeable fact that in their mental organization they (hunch- 
backs) almost invariably possess a piquancy and subtility unequaled 
by most persons of a better physique, and whilst their mental traits 
do not give them just claims to profundity, yet they are commonly 
shrewd in the management of the business affairs of life, and their 
witticisms are often hurled with blighting effect at any they may not 
chance to like ; and their moral distortions are commonly of so pro- 
nounced a type as to have originated among the Germans an old 
adage, that " he upon whom God has set a mark, watch him, for he 
has surely come to bite the world." 

Richard thus descants upon his own deformity: " Love forswore 
■ me in my mother's womb ; and, for I should not deal in her soft laws, 
she did corrupt frail nature with some bribe to shrink my arm up 
like a withered shrub ; to make an envious mountain on my back, 
where sits deformity to mock my body ; to shape my legs of an un- 
equal size ; to disproportion me in every part, like to a chaos, or an 
unlick'd bear-whelp, that carried no impressions like the dam." 
Then after he had murdered the king, Henry the Sixth, with his 
own hand, on his blooody march to power, he thus cogitates : " Now 
is the winter of my discontent made glorious summer by the sun of 
York ; and all the clouds that lowered upon our house, in the deep 
bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with victo- 
rious wreathes ; our bruised arms hungup for monuments ; our stern 
alarums chang'd to merry meeting, our dreadful marches to delight- 
ful measures. Grim visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkl'd front ; 
and now, instead of mounting barbed steeds, to fright the souls of 
fearful adversaries, he capers nimbly, in a lady's chamber, to the 
lascivious pleasing of a lute. But I that am not shaped for sportive 
tricks, nor made to court an amorous looking-glass ; I, that am 
rudely stamp' d, and want love's majesty, to strut before a wanton 



214 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

ambling nymph ; I, that am ourtail'd of these fair proportions, 
cheated of features by dissembling nature, deformed, unfinish'd, 
sent before my time into this breathing world, scarce half made up, 
and that so lamely and unfashionable, that dogs do bark at me as I 
halt by them ; why I, in this weak, piping time of peace, have no 
delight to pass away the time unless to see my shadow in the sun, 
and descant on mine own deformity ; since heaven hath shaped my 
body, so let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it ; and therefore, 
since I cannot prove a lover to entertain these fair well spoken days, 
I am determined to prove a villain, and hate the idle pleasures of 
these days." 

Notwithstanding these vows, the foul toad found a time when he 
could listen to the whisperings of vanity and be influenced thereby; 
he even got so that he thought well of his own good looks ; hear him 
after he had been paying court to Annie, the widow of the murdered 
Edward : 

" And will she yet abase her eyes on me that cropp'd the golden 
prime of this sweet prince, and made her widow to a wof ul bed? 
On me that halt and am misshapen thus? My dukedom to a beggar- 
ly dinner, I do mistake my person all this while ; upon my life she 
finds, although I cannot, myself to be a marvelous proper man. I'll 
be at charge for a looking-glass, and entertain a score or more of 
tailors, to study fashions to adorn my body ; since I am crept into 
favor with myself, I will maintain it with some little cost." 

The most complete bibliography of malformations resulting from 
incomplete (intra uterine) development of parts does not claim that 
the foetal extremities — the arm or leg — are abridged in development. 
They may fail of development utterly and the child be born either 
armless or legless, but not with an arm " shrank up like a withered 
shrub," nor " legs of an unequal size," as was the case wi^h Rich- 
ard, according to his own account. Constrictions, as of the looping 
around an extremity by the umbilical cord, might have retarded their 
growth, but the fault is placed to the credit, seemingly, of the same 
agencies which placed the " envious mountain on his back." The 
action of a constricting funis could not be properly accused of this. 
As was shown in a former chapter, when speaking of teratologic con- 
dition of the foetus, that the departures from the normal almost al- 
ways consist of lack of development and not in an excess of develop- 
ment ; hence the conclusion may be fairly entertained that the moun- 
tain which sat mockingly upon the back of Richard^was not of intra 



MISCELLANEOUS. 215 

uterine growth, but perhaps occurred during his early childhood. 
He also testifies to the fact that he was lame, as the dogs barked at 
him as he " halted " by. This was much more likely to have been 
of post natal origin than to have been part of a congenital deformity. 
It is not uncommon to see the lower extremities become of unequal 
length in spinal affections which occur subsequent to birth, as in 
rickets for example. 

Growths of such a character as the one situated upon his back if 
of intra uterine origin are known usually to consist of an extra foetus 
more or less perfect, constituting a tumor covered by integument. 
It is not impossible but that the tumor we write of was of this na- 
ture, though his mother, not being free from a suspicion of some 
constitutional sexual vice, would be less likely to make an effort in 
the way of over-production than she would to transmit a constitu- 
tional taint which should in childhood manifest itself in curvature of 
the spine. This latter seems to have been the real deformity in the 
case under consideration, although Shakespeare puts forward the tes- 
timony of more than one witness to the fact that it was congenital. 

It will be remembered that he had murdered the husband of Annie 
with his own hand at Tewkesbury, and he meets her on the way to 
the grave with her husband's body and proposes marriage to her, 
which she, to his utter amazement, accepts. Queen Margaret thus 
gives us his portrait: " Thou elvish marked, abortive rooting hog! 
thou that was sealed in thy nativity the strain of nature and the scorn 
of hell! Thou slander of thy mother's womb! thou loathed issue of 
thy father's loins!" 

Constance speaks thus of one she could not love. She was speak- 
ing to her fair boy, Arthur : 

" If thou, that bidd'st me be content, wert grim, ugly, and slander- 
ous to thy mother's womb, — full of unpleasing blots, unsightly stains, 
lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious, patch'd with foul moles, 
and eye-offending marks, I would not care, I then would be content; 
for then I should not love thee ; but thou art fair, and at thy birth, 
dear boy, nature and fortune joined to make thee great." 

The physiological process called sleep is spoken of in "Macbeth," 
"Julius CiBsar," and "Henry the Sixth." In the latter the 
' ' troublous dreams this night doth make me sad ' ' sa3^s the ' ' hunch- 
back," on one occasion during the time he was scheming for the 
crown; whilst the first (Macbeth) says " the innocent sleep ; — sleep, 



216 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care, the death of each day's life, 
sore labour's bath, balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, 
chief nourisher in life's feast." The innocent sleep thinks Caesar 
when he says : "let me have men about me that are fat ; sleek- 
headed men, and such as sleep o' nights ; yond' Cassius hath a lean 
and hungry look; — he thinks too much." 

"Our life is two-fold: sleep hath its own world, a boundary be- 
tween the things misnam'd death and existence; sleep hath its own 
world, and a wide realm of wild reality. And dreams in their de- 
velopment have breath and tears and tortures, and the touch of joy ; 
they leave a weight upon our waking thoughts, they take weight from 
off our waking toils, they do divide our being ; they become a portion 
of ourselves as of our time, and look like heralds of eternity ; they pass 
like spirits of the past, — they speak like sybils of the future ; they 
have power, — the tyranny of pleasure and of pain; they make U8 
what we were not — what they will, and shake us with the vision that's 
gone by, the dread of vanish' d shadows — Are they so? Is not the 
past all shadow? What are they? Creations of the mind? — The 
mind can make substance, and people planets of its own with beings 
brighter than have been, and give a breath to forms which can out- 
live all flesh." 

I introduce the above quotation from Byron, that readers may find 
diversity of sentiment, and in this instance have the chance to see 
side by side the ideas of two of the most profound minds that ever 
looked into the human heart. 

' ' Before the curing of a strong disease, even in the instant of 
repair and health, the fit is strongest." — King John. 

"The same diseases heal by the same means." — The Merchant of 
Venice. 

The first of these assertions is certainly correct, as the disease 
must reach its acme before the decline commences ; in that instant 
repair must gain the ascendancy over waste, though the instant of 
absolute health is not yet reached the moment repair is begun. There 
is neither anything shrewd nor illogical in the second assertion. 

" Indeed, we feared his sickness was past cure," in "King John, " 
had reference not to physical infirmity, but to the political danger of 
Prince Arthur. "John" also contains the proposition to " heal the 
inveterate canker of one wound, by making many" — an idea only 



MISCELLANEOUS. 217 

used illustratively, but one which finds application very often in prac- 
tical medicine and surgery. A quotation from ' ' Richard the Second ' ' 
to the effect that "they breathe truth that breathe their words in 
pain ' ' is recognized as a basis of action in admitting certain testimony 
in our courts of justice. If a person make a statement whilst under 
the impression that he cannot long survive, we, as a rule, give great 
regard to its probable truthfulness ; but whether such credence could 
be placed in the veracity of one who was simply laboring under an 
attack of neuralgia without any apprehension of danger to life, we 
are not so well satisfied. Under these considerations of the fact a 
party would have to be laboring under pain, to his or her mind 
evidently speedily mortal, before much special significance could be 
given to their utterances. 

In " Henry the Fourth " there is a laughable incident where Fal- 
staff takes up the quarrel of Mrs. Tearsheet, and thereby precipi- 
tated a riot with Pistol, who, with his sword, made thrusts at Fal- 
staff' s belly and stabbed him in the groin, Sir John at the same 
time hurting Pistol in the shoulder ; the reader must turn to the 
original, and get the matter in its full connection, to enjoy a good 
laugh. 

A very early, and also a very tardy case of dentition is noticed in 
"Richard the Third," and "it is time to give them physic, their 
diseases are grown so catching " is seen in "Henry the Eighth." 
" Then recovered him again with aqua vitae, or some other hot infu- 
sion" is found in the " Winter's Tale ; " the term " aqua vitse" be- 
ing used in one other place in Shakespeare, also. " Hot infusions" 
are the popular domestic resort even to this hour, and when after 
scalding, steaming and roasting a patient his friends or parents can- 
not "recover" him, the physician perhaps is invited to undertake 
the then no easy task. 

" Sea-sick " is also noticed in the " Winter's Tale," but no ideas as 
to its true pathology or best treatment are advanced. Observations 
as to position being the cause, and the change of that position into a 
(philosophically) more proper one as a prophylactic, and also a 
curative measure, appear to be the most logical ideas ever enter- 
tained and promulgated upon this distressing condition. Dr. Beard 
to the contrary notwithstanding. It is to be hoped that experience 
may prove the value of the suggestions. The phrase "with a mind 
that doth renew swifter than blood decays" is found in "Troilus 
and Cressida," and probably has reference to the mere coagulation 



218 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

of the blood ; as blood does not really undergo the change of putre- 
faction sooner than many other organic compounds. 

Upon the subject of sanitary science, we find the following in 
" Romeo and Juliet" in regard to quarantine: 

' ' Going to find a bare-foot brother out, one of our order, to asso- 
ciate me, here in this city visiting the sick, and finding him, the 
searchers of the tower, suspecting that we both were in a house 
where the infectious pestilence did reign, seal'd up the doors, and 
would not let us forth." This was the story of Friar John after his 
return from Mantua, whither he had been on the mission to Romeo to 
acquaint him with the condition of Juliet as she lay bound by the 
Friar Lawrence's " sleeping potion " in the " tomb of the Capulets." 

It seems that quarantine regulations were more rigidly enforced at 
that early day than at present ; and it is likely that the ' ' infectious 
pestilence" referred to was either small-pox or plague, as barring 
doors would have little effect in warding off the subtle germs that 
propagate cholera. The " plague " is named by " Timon ; " though 
it is probable that this scourge had not lately visited the British 
islands, as this is the only instance in which Shakespeare speaks of 
it in his entire writings ; had he, however, lived half a century later, 
at the time when London was almost depopulated from this dreadful 
malady, he would doubtless have given the world a graphic descrip- 
tion of its horrors ; it was his strong point to seize upon every salient 
feature of an age, ajid present it in a light, and with a force of 
thought, never attained by any other individual. It will be remem- 
bered that the plague visited London in 1665, and the great fire in 
1666, just fifty years after the death of Shakespeare. 

The oft-quoted " all the world's a stage " is a truism ; "they have 
their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many 
parts, — his acts being seven ages. At first the infant, mewling and 
puking in his mother's arms ; then, the whining school-boy, with his 
satchel, and shining morning face, creeping like snail unwillingly to 
school. And then the lover, sighing like furnace, with woful ballad 
made to his mistress' eye-brows. Then a soldier, full of strange 
oaths, and bearded like the pard, jealous in honor, sudden and quick 
in quarrel, seeking the bubble reputation even in the cannon's mouth. 
And then the justice in fair round belly, with good capon lin'd, with 
eye severe and beard of formal cut, full of wise saws and modern 
instances ; and so he plays his part. 

The sixth age shifts into the lean and slipper' d pantaloon, with 



MISCELLANEOUS. 219 

spectacles on nose and pouch at side ; his youthful hose, well sav'd, 
a world too wide for his shrunken shanks, and his big manly voice, 
turning again towards the childish treble, pipes and whistles in his 
sound. 

Last scene of all, that ends this strange eventful history, is second 
childishness, and mere oblivion; sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, 
sans everything" — the listless old man sits in his quiet corner, his 
hands resting on the top of his cane, waiting patiently for the final 
summons. 

The Chief Justice and Falstaff get the matter in this shape : 

Falstaff. ' ' You that are old, consider not the capacities of us 
that are young. 

Chief Jiistice. Do you set down your name in the scroll of youth, 
that are written down old with all the characters of age? Have you 
not a moist eye, a dry hand, a yellow cheek, a white beard, a de- 
creasing leg, and increasing belly? Is not your voice broken, your 
wind short, your chin double, your wit single, and every part about 
you blasted with antiquity, and will you yet call yourself young? 
Fie, fie, fie. Sir John. 

Falstaff. My lord, I was born about three of the clock in the 
afternoon, with a white head, and something of a round belly ; for 
my voice — I have lost it with hollaing and singing of anthems. To 
approve my youth farther, I will not : the truth is, I am only old in 
judgment and understanding ; and he that will caper with me for a 
thousand marks, let him lend me the money and have at him." 

" Hal " gets off a pretty good thing in the same direction during 
his courtship with his Kate: "While thou livest, dear Kate, take a 
fellow of plain and uncoin'd constancy, for he perforce must do thee 
right, because he hath not the gift to woo in other places ; for these 
fellows of infinite tongue that can rhyme themselves into ladies' 
favors, they do always reason themselves out again. A good leg 
will fail, a straight back will stoop, a black beard will turn white, a 
curled pate will grow bald, a fine face will wither, a full eye will 
wax hollow — but a good heart, Kate — " while Hamlet finishes it in 
this wise : " This satirical rogue here, says that old men have grey 
beards ; that their faces are wrinkled ; their eyes purging thick am- 
ber and plum-tree gum ; and that they have a plentiful lack of wit, 
together with most weak hams." Though after all these pictures 
of decay, it is claimed by the cynical philosophy of the blind Glos- 



220 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHTSICIAN. 

ter, in " King Lear," that but for the hatred we have for the world 
— engendered by its strange mutations, life would never yield to the 
inroads of time, and our existence on earth would become perpet- 
ual. It no doubt occurs to every one who has had experience in the 
vicissitudes of earthly existence, at some time in their career, to ask 
themselves the question — " To be or not to be? or whether 'tis nobler 
in the mind, to suffer the stings and arrows of outrageous fortune ; 
or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end 
them?" Or, like Constance, in "ffing John," who in the " extremity 
of her griefs " says of the " grim monster " — " No, I defy all coun- 
sel, all redress, but that which ends all counsel, true redress, death, 
death. O, amiable, lovely death! thou odoriferous stench! sound 
rottenness ! arise from forth the couch of lasting night, thou hate and 
terror to prosperity, and I will kiss thy detestable bones." 

In " Henry the Eighth " we find a simile in regard to his marriage, 
in these words: " He brings his physic after his patient's death" — 
an occurrence by the way not unfrequent in the career of many doc- 
tors of medicine. 

Experience teaches us that this fact is often more embarrassing 
than the matter would seem to warrant ; but really, one who has 
practiced medicine in the rural districts and has many times called 
to see his patient and finds him twenty-four hours dead, can fully ap- 
preciate my meaning. The writer of these lines not long in the past 
practiced in the country, and when approaching the house of a pa- 
tient whom he had left in a critical condition at the last visit, it was 
customary to scan closely the premises, and if he found a number of 
horses tied along the fence — many of them with side saddles on, he 
at once felt crestfallen, and without further information concluded 
that " he brings his physic after the patient's death." 

The language of Capulet, once before noted in these pages — "Out, 
alas! she's cold! her blood is settled and her joints are stiff; life 
and these lips have long been separated ; death lies on her like an 
untimely frost," is a fair picture of the ending of mortality ; though 
if one swallowed all the ideas and speculations he reads of, he might 
reach the conclusion that after all, it is a difficult matter to say posi- 
tively when a person is dead. For the more satisfactory demonstra- 
tion of its certainty, numerous tests are given, one of the most re- 
cent being to ligate the finger of the party suspected, and if it swells 
beyond or on the distal side of the constriction, then the circulation 
goes on and of course the person lives. Another is to apply the 



MISCELLANEOUS. 221 

flame of a candle to the point of the finger, and if the burn is fol- 
lowed by vesication the person lives, — if it remain parched and brown 
then he is dead ; whilst again if the fingers of the suspected party- 
be held between the eye of the observer and a strong light, as the 
sun at noonday, if they are transparent then life remains, if opaque 
or dark, then death has done his work ; whilst yet another test is to 
drop a solution of atropine in the eye, and if it dilates, all right, — if 
not, then we may begin to suspect something wrong. I suspect 
however that the test of old Lear — that of placing a looking-glass be- 
fore the lips of the party suspected, and if the " shine is moistened" 
by the condensed expired vapors, then he lives — otherwise he is 
caput mortuum. The wafting of a feather by the breath is also sug- 
gested as a test in "King Lear." 

Of easy ways to die I know of no one who has given the subject 
more special attention than the voluptuous Cleopatra, who studied 
the matter well with a view to its practical application in her own 
person. The assertion that one recovered after having nine hours 
lain dead, is only a marvelous story from the lips of a quack — 
the analogue of cases with which we meet every day. 

Apropos of the dying and the dead, we find a case in medical ju- 
risprudence in " Henry the Sixth " — a case which if "not positively 
proven" is very well argued upon a basis of hypothecation. The 
ease referred to is the death of the duke of Gloster, who it was 
claimed had been murdered at the instance of the queen and her 
paramour, the earl of Suffolk. 

Warwick. "I do believe violent hands were laid upon the life of 
this thrice-famed duke. 

Suffolk. A dreadful oath, sworn with a solemn tongue ! What in- 
stance gives Lord "Warwick for his view ? 

Warwick. See how the blood has settled in his face. Oft have I 
seen a timely parted ghost, of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and 
bloodless, being all descended to, the laboring heart; who in the con- 
flict that it holds with death attracts the same for aidance 'gainst the 
enemy ; which with the heart there cools, and ne'er return eth to blush 
and beautify the cheek again. But see, his face is black, and full of 
blood; his eye-balls farther out than when he liv'd, staring full 
ghastly like a strangled man: his hair upraised, his nostrils stretch' d 
with straining. His hands abroad display' d like one that grasp' d 
and tugg'd for life, and was by strength subdued. Look, on the 



222 SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 

sheets, his hair you see, is sticking ; his well proportioned beard 
made rough, rugged, like to the summer's corn by tempest lodged. 
It cannot be but he was murdered here ; the least of all these signs 
were probable." 

The annals of forensic medicine do not furnish a more consistent 
and graphic picture of death by hanging or by strangulation than is 
here presented. The endeavor, however, to point out negative signs 
as evidence of the duke's murder is rather lame and inconclusive. 
Shakespeare falls into such an error but seldom indeed. 

It was said a few paragraphs back, that no doubt was entertained, 
that most persons who had encountered for a time the vicissitudes of 
life, had often concluded that after all, life is an unsatisfactory state 
of existence, that life is a failure, and that there are few things here 
below worth living for; but then "to die, and go we know not 
where ; to lie in cold obstruction and to rot ; this sensible warm mo- 
tion to become a kneaded clod ; and the delighted spirit to bathe in 
fiery floods, or to reside in thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice : to 
be imprison'd in the viewless winds, and blown with restless violence 
round about the pendent world ; or to be worse than worst of these — 
'tis too horrible ! The weariest loathed worldly life, that age, ache, 
penury and imprisonment can lay on nature, is a paradise to what 
we fear of death." 

In regard to the terror manifested by Shakespeare at the bare idea 
of the uncertainties of a future existence, it appears a little puerile 
to myself. To the philosophic mind the thought of a future oblivion 
in which we may he should possess no more of dread than the oblivion 
in which we were. Indeed, as I was one hundred years ago is, to 
my mind, the condition in which I loill he one hundred years hence. 
To my thinking the analogue is complete. If I am hereafter im- 
prisoned in the viewless winds or lie in cold obstruction, what is it 
more than I have been? We have this life certainly which we may 
present as an analogical conclusion for another ; but on the other 
hand we know, from observation, of two states of non-existence for 
these forms of ours — the remove from the beginning, and from the 
ending of the present one — and so " I take my leave." 

THE END. 



IISTDEX. 



Abortion 24, 25, 58, CI, 64 

A boon to nineteen 127 

Acumen, Professional 58 

Age, Nubile 24 

Alcohol andvenery 36 

All the world's a stage 218 

Anaesthesia 154 

Anger 120 

Anorexia 22 

Antidote 84 

Appetite, Craving 21 

" Sexual 107 

Arrow-poison 148 

Asperitj^ 35 

Atavism 167 

A very old head 130 

Avon, Bard of 28 

Balance, Nutritive 21 

Banquo 80 

Barker, Dr., of Dumfries 33 

Baths in syphilis 171 

Bearing-cloth 38 

Beau Nash 89 

Biron 197 

Blasted 219 

Blood, Smell of 80 

Blue-eyed hag 18 

Blumenbach 167 

Boards of Health 210 

Bowlsby, Alice 18 

Brownist 163 

Brown-Sequard 167 

Bryant, W. C 96 

Bucknill, Dr 71, 78, 85, 101 

Bullen, Aune 47 

Byron, Lord 216 



PAGE 

Ci^sarian section 64 

Campbell, Lord 28 

Cataclysm, Final 95 

Carry his water 186 

Cataract 206 

Cave of Belarius 155 

Cephalalgia 128 

Chastria, Mrs. .. 120 

Chemistry of digestion 175 

Child, A thankless 65 

Chlorosis 37 

Chosen, by what? 43 

Coma and speech 124 

Come back 48 

Come on my right 185 

Conclusions 117 

Consanguinity 27 

Conspiracy 74 

Convulsions, Puerperal 68 

Cornelia 53 

Country swain 19 

Cramer, Jennie 19 

Cramp in drowning 125 

Cut-throat 46 

Cyphoses _ 44, 212 

Dankish vaults 74 

Death of Falstaff 160 

DeBoismont 82, 87, 91 

Deformities, Double 45 

Degeneracy, Mental 55 

Delineation, Farcical 73 

Dentition, a guide 57 

Dialectical society 36 

Digestion and sleep 94 

Diseases dearer than physic .172 
Disturbances, Mental 73 



233 



224 



SHAKESPEAUE AS A PHYSICIAN. 



Down grade of life 35 

Do you nothing hear? „ 86 

Drama and education 42 

Dreams, always involuntary... 83 

Drinks, Sleepy 132 

Duhaget, Dom 82 

Dyspareunia 70, 119 

Early marriages 54, 55 

Earth and its girdle „.. 23 

Eclampsia _ 68 

Elimination 22 

Emendator, Error of 145 

English common law :... 32 

Envy - 120 

Epilepsy 121 

Epistaxis 185 

Etiology 156 

Existence, A future 222 

Expert, Medical 33 

Expression and bromides 123 

Facial perception _ 185 

Fact, the only evidence 33 

Falling sickness 121, 123 

Families, Aristocratic 28 

" Rural 60 

Farmed out 57 

Female physicians 198 

Fencing match 149 

Fever, Tyi^hoid 22, 92 

Few can correct errors 146 

Fibroids, Uterine 60 

Fleming, the phrenologist 184 

Fools not mad folks _ 97 

Foscari, Cell of 74 

Garrulous nurse 56, 62 

Garters, an evil 162 

Gentleman, Lusty 32, 33 

Germ-life 47 

Give her an hundred marks .... 49 

Give me some drink 161 

Gland, The mammary 56 

Gout 131 

Green sickness 37, 62 

Groans, Night of 47 

Grocer's maid 166 

Gynaecology 17 



Halitus, Pulmonary 102 

Hallucinations 90, 91, 147 

Handkerchief 42 

Hatred, Immoderate 30 

Harangue 121 

Headache 129, 130 

Head, Compression of 128 

Hebenon 165 

He reads much 187 

Hernia 113 

He upon whom God sets a 

mark 213 

Histo - genetic operations 192 

Hobnail liver 179 

Hope 41 

Horse, with side-saddle 220 

Hospital, Guy's 37 

How stand the clergy? 204 

Hunchback, The 42 

Hypnotics 141 

Idea, A paramount 100 

Idiosyncrasy 139 

Ignorance of the populace... 196 

Illegitimacy 31, 32, 34, 55 

Imagination, Scientific 92 

Immortality :. 93 

Inanition 57 

Incident, Ludicrous 39 

Indian, American 30 

" doctor 202 

Inebriate "Homes" 75 

Infanticide 64 

Infantile vitality 68 

Influences, Septic 22 

Insane hospitals 74 

Irritability of hunger 177 

Jealousy 101, 103, 104, 105 

Jones, John, of Albany 127 

Jorisenne, Dr. 40 



Knowledge, Intuitive 72 



Knowing him is enough.. 



.200 



Lactiferous period 56 

Lady, English 30 

Language, Irrelevant 98 



INDEX. 



225 



PAGE 

Lankaster, Dr 137 

Lebreicht 140 

Le Sage 88 

Lex scripta 29 

Letter, A veritable 116 

Licence, Sexual 107 

Liquidating a bill 84 

London, Tower of 42 

Love powders 115 

" marks 109 

Lugubrious physiognomy 209 

Lunacy, courts of enquiry.... 76 

Lust 112 

Lying-in chamber 50 

Macbeth, Lady 79 

Madness and emotion 101 

Mad-folk of Shakespeare 134 

Maid, A fun-loving 77 

Malaria and mortality 162 

Male accoucheurs, none 54 

Malformations 26 

Malignancy and milk 60 

Mammary glands 56, 58, 61 

Mandragora .. 135 

Mantua, Apothecary of 142 

Man's procreative capacity 107 

Marriage in 1884 182 

" Early, and morals.. 55 

Marshall, Minnie 116 

Massachusetts gen. hospital... 207 

Mastication, Organs of 58 

Medical Soc'y of St. Joseph ... 157 

Medicine, Forensic 29 

Medlicott, Dr 203 

Menses 28 

Mental phenomena. Aberrant. 71 

Metamorphosis _ _ 21 

Milk... 30, 56, 57, 60, 62, 63, 82 

Midwives, Commission of 39 

Mind, the offspring of matter 91 

Moliere 78 

Money-bags 31 

Monkey as an expert „ 76 

Monogamistic relations 108 

Montagues, The 142 

Mormon society 108 

Morbi materies 22 



Motion 91, 93 

Murder, Picture of 221 

Music as a remedy 133 

Narcotics , 132 

Night, Dismal 42 

Nipple, The 55, 56, 63 

Non medical men 21, 24 

Not from Shakespeare 112 

Not pregnant. When 40 

Normal pregnancies. Ten 59 

Notions, Antiquated 19 

Nubility and fourteen 24 

Nursing, Attachments of 63 

" her own child sacred 58 

Odontalgia 128 

Offspring, Limitation of 54 

Olivares, Duke of 88 

On death 222 

Opium 84 

Organology 174 

Orleans, Maid of 39 

Ovariotomy, Normal 24 

Ovulation 60 

Ovid 115 

Pabulum of thought 96 

Painting, Face 196 

Paramour, A black 51 

Pen, The 22 

Pen of a master 50 

Perfumes of Arabia 80 

Phonograph _ 23 

Physiology of sleep 215 

Pierre Chatel 82 

Poisoned by a monk 137 

Pontine marsh 159 

Prather, Miss 126 

Prayer vs. quinine 208 

Pregnancy, Diagnoses of 40 

" Signs of 40 

Pretty worm of Nilus 150 

Printing press, The 23 

Private retreats 75 

Privilege, Child-bed 30 

Procreative life of women 59 

Prunes, Stew'd 22 

" Longing for 2C 



226 



SHAKESPEARE AS A PHYSICIAN. 



Psychology 70, 72 

Puck 23 

Pulse as a guide 85 

Pure air deleterious 191 

Pythagoras 78 

Quack, A 67 

Quack, The impecunious 221 

Quick at second month 22 

Race, Yankee 55 

Rape, but no conception 118 

Reade, Charles 76 

Red-hot stove, curative 188 

Reproduction, when complete 61 
Resuscitation, Writer's mode 69 

"Retreats," Private 75 

Revolver, The trusty Ill 

Rosenweig, Dr 18 

Royston 146 

Sack 38 

Sagacity of Shakespeare 21 

Scheele 146 

Schoeppe, Dr 203 

Scientific use of the imagina- 
tion 92 

Sea-sickness, Position in. 135, 217 

Section, Ciesarian 64 

Sexual relations, Equality in, 106 

Shaftesbury, Lord . 107 

Shakespeare, a contradiction 31 

Shylock, the Jew 194 

Sims, Dr. J. Marion 40 

Singing man of Windsor 176 

Skeleton 90 

Sleeplessness 73 

Sleep, Physiology of 93 

Smile, sir 34, 102 

Snake bite 152 

Social science 36 

Solobasta 153 

Somnambulism 81, 82 

Soul, The 93 

Specifics, Love 114 

Spectres, etc 87 

Spencer, Herbert 36 

Squaw, Labor of 30 



PAGE 

Sterile condition 110 

Storm, Relentless 90 

Study of Shakespeare 71 

Suicide, Fashions of 136 

Sunrise, Dr. 203 

Surgery 192 

Swinstead Abbey 138 

Syphilis, Baths in 164 

Tanner, resists decay 172 

Tanner, the faster 175 

Tearsheet, Mrs. Doll 38, 130 

Telephone ... 23 

Temptation, A terrible 76 

Teratology 44, 214 

Tewkesbury and Gov. Butler 75 

Then live, Macduff 181 

The public dipper 170 

The Wash and the Humber ... 158 

Thorn, A jealous 105 

Tissue, Plastic 44 

Trust not the physician 190 

Truth and popular idea 180 

Tubercular bacteria 183 

Tubercle and syphilis 129 

Twins, Siamese 45 

Utah 108 

Uterus a mobile organ 27 

Vaccine disease 166 

Varden, Dolly 109 

Villain, what hast thou? 52 

Vision, Obliquity of 103 

Vivisection 153 

Von Helmont 115 

Vulgarian 134 

Waggish old man 122 

Wedlock no evidence 34 

Whistle, The seaman's Q% 

Wilkes, Dr 37 

Wine and blood 173 

Witticisms 45 

Woman, a dish for the gods ... 151 

Woodman, The 178 

Young flirt. The 110 

Zone, Epileptic .168 



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